


All Hail The King

by JailynnW



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, Eventual Romance, F/M, Freedom fighter Brienne, Hate Sex, Jaime uses swords to describe sexual acts, King Jaime Lannister, Kinks, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Sexual Tension, Some Bdsm later, UST, bad innuendos, dark Jaime, evil Jaime, from enemies to friends to lovers, has canon elements, king jaime, lots of sex coming, not all is how it seems, other characters will be added, some violence, the rating will go up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2020-11-28 08:37:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 62,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20963639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JailynnW/pseuds/JailynnW
Summary: King Jaime had a reputation- it was one earned through blood and battle. Brienne knew all about her King- she had seen the dark side of his rule and would never stand aside while people suffered. She had a plan to end his bloody reign- getting captured by the King's men was not part of the plan. Neither was being King Jaime's personal prisoner.-------------------I read a quote where George said his original plan for Jaime was to make him an evil King... and a plot bunny was born. This story is darker than anything I have written before, but it will be romantic at the end because at the core of myself- I'm a happy endings kind of girl.





	1. A Mouse in The Lion's Den

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merrymaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymaya/gifts).

> Thank you to my beta for indulging me in this crazy idea. She let me talk her ear off with the thought that Evil King Jaime could be an interesting take and I'm very lucky that she is so patient with my plot bunnies. She is also the one responsible for the lovely chapter dividers. I am in awe of her talent! She has some amazing stories on the site, please go check them all out. You will not be disappointed.  
[ https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymaya/pseuds/merrymaya ]
> 
> \-------------------
> 
> Thank you to Ro Nordmann for being kind enough to read this story when it was a wreck and for also listening to me talk through all the ideas I have. Her art work is gorgeous and her stories are magnificent. She has been so kind to me and I'm so grateful to call her friend. She has been writing some of my favorite stories on the site and I urge everyone to go read them!  
[ https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/pseuds/Ro_Nordmann ]
> 
> \-------------------
> 
> A special thank you to TLHudson and River_Melody_Pond for being my test readers. They are both talented writers as well, so please check them out if you haven't!
> 
> And thank you to all that read this story!  


[](https://imgur.com/B9OzXQB)

  
**Chapter 1: A Mouse In The Lion's Den**

******************

[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

Her teeth chattered in her mouth as she huddled closer to the waning fire she had dared to build. The winter winds blew harshly over the makeshift shelter she had quickly built together. She was trying to stay out of sight. Hunters and the king's men were everywhere, taking out the resistance. Brienne had watched friends and foes perish under the thumb of their cruel King's rule. The fact she still had her head while many did not was a blessing and a curse from the Gods. She tugged at the ripped and tattered cloak that was her blanket for the night... and had been for many nights.

In the distance, she heard the clopping of hooves against the hard earth and she pushed herself more into the shadows. With deep sorrow she threw some solid dirt over her flames, extinguishing the only source of warm she had. She could not be caught. Not yet! She had to reach her destination. She had to finish her mission... then she could die with all the others.

More horses, loud men talking and directing. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. They were close... so close. She pulled the branches of the half hut down further, shielding the opening and making it appear as nothing more than fallen debris. Small puffs of smoke leaked through from the deadening embers, and panic rose inside her and gripped her heart in a vise.

“There,” a male's voice called out. “Smoke is coming from behind this bush.” Brienne's stomach rolled and she was grateful for the first time that there was little food to be had and none in her belly at the moment. She felt the urge to heave but clamped her mouth shut to stop it. “Search under whatever could be used for shelter! One of them is near and the King commands all be found.”

Brienne knew she would be taken now. Sadness and a deep sense of failure warred inside her. She would be hung from the trees after she was paraded through the streets. Her hand reached in her boot for the dagger she always kept there. If she was to be taken, she would not go quietly. She would fight and wound and kill anyone that touched her. She would lose- she knew that- but she would not be docile in her defeat.

She counted in her mind as the footfalls of the soldiers got nearer to her dwelling. Rocks rolled by her, branches were thrown aside, men screamed and yelled orders. She gripped the cold hilt of her knife, ready to plunge it into the first soldier who would discover her. Her blue eyes widened and her hearing sharpened. She would be ready. She would be strong. Her father had taught her to be a fighter and she would be one until her dying breath.

Heavy breathing and more earth was turned as the group tried to find her. The king's men- puppets of evil- were at her hovel. Her heart slowed down in her chest. Her breathing stilled. Her muscles tensed. It was time. The branches were whipped away and she faced a man. Before he could alert others to his discovery, she surged forward and slit his throat. Blood oozed from the wound, coloring his shiny suit in the crimson color of his King's House.

The young man- he could not have been more than seven and ten, a child fighting in a war adults have made- stared at her with shocked eyes. The light of life slowly left his brown orbs as the blood slipped out the cut to his neck. She felt an unexpected wave of sympathy for this man. He did not choose this life. He was a pawn of a King who cared not for the innocent lives caught in the web of his making. Her blood ran cold and her resolve strengthened. She prayed that the Warrior would take his soul. She shook herself free from her thoughts. More men appeared before her and she held her dagger firmly in her hand. Their swords were better for engaging in battle without getting close, but she was fast.

Two more soldiers fell at her feet. The bodies slumped and blood colored the ground. A blade slid across her shoulder as she spun, cutting deeply into her flesh and causing her to hiss in pain. The thin material of her dirty clothes bloomed with scarlet. She spun and sliced, but it was no use. The men surrounded her and pulled her to the ground. She yanked her arms and kicked out her legs, hitting one of the men in the crotch with her foot. He growled and slapped her across the face. She spat at him, her cheek stinging from his hand.

“Stupid bitch,” he snarled. “Or maybe you are not a bitch... too manly by half.” She glared at him as his comrades hauled her up. The commander before her, with thick black brows and a hard, cruel face, laughed at her. “Dim as well. The King will enjoy taking you to the Black Cells. He likes to make people scream when they want to be silent.” She tried not to blanch, but she felt her blood drain from her head quickly. “Come! Let us take our prize to the King. He will be most pleased!”

She was bound by ropes and thrown over the back of one of their horses. Her heart slammed into her chest. She had failed and now she would meet the tyrant who ruled them all. Death was closing in and she tried hard not to tremble in the face of it.

****************************

[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

Fires blazed in the hearth as he waited for his _honored_ guest to arrive. The Great Hall was stifling with the heat from all the flames as well the bodies that were skirting close walls. All were hoping to blend in and not be targeted by the King. Jaime sat on the Iron Throne, his mind idle and quickly drowning in boredom. The Lords and Ladies milling about were watching him wearily. He arched his left brow and tapped his fingers against the blades under his hand. The soldiers were bringing him a new toy to bat around and it was the only thing that was keeping him engaged. The Red Keep was filled with sheep, baaing at him, willing to leap if he asked. 

Stupid people. His father would have sneered at them, called them weak. He agreed. They were all weak and not worth his time... The doors opened wide and he straightened on the cold metallic throne. A tall prisoner was walked into the room. He licked his lip. He had heard about her. Her features were just as ugly as he had been told. Her hands were bound tightly with ropes and there was a chain around her thick neck. Her pale blonde hair was covered in mud and some blood. Her face was broad and filled with freckles. Her teeth were large and crooked. Her mouth was pulled into a tight, thin line. Jaime watched her closely. His general told him of the lady's lack of words. A tongue that refused to loosen. He would change that.

She was thrown at his feet onto her knees. Two soldiers held her shoulders down so she stayed there. He leaned forward and stared into her eyes. He was shocked by the color of those orbs. The purest and most dazzling blue he had ever seen. They were the color of the sea and sky. Gorgeous and totally out of place in her homely features. He sneered at her and she glared back. _Oh,_ he thought with glee. _She would not cower to me. She wanted a battle and I am thirsting for one._ He got up from the throne and slowly descended down to where she was.

Her head tilted up as he got closer. His hand cupped her chin and she flinched away from his touch. He tightened his hold. “Lady Brienne of Tarth,” he said blandly. “I have been waiting for this moment.” She kept her mouth tightly shut. “I do not believe you are dim. You have thwarted my attempts to capture you for many moons.” Still, he was met with silence. His anger started to grow. “Do you have nothing to say?”

Her eyes never left his green ones. The anger he could feel coming from her was like a burning caress. She opened her mouth and her pink tongue came out to lick her big, fish lips. Jaime felt his blood rush through his body. “What would you like me to say, Your Grace,” the title was spat out. Her voice was light and more feminine than he had assumed it would be. She did not respect him and he could see that in her defiance. “What crimes do you want me to confess to?”

He leaned in close and said so only she could hear, “I plan to hear all your crimes, My Lady. In time you will tell me all.” Jaime smirked and pulled his hand from her face. “You are my guest, Lady Brienne!” He smiled coldly at her. “I wish to talk to you.” He did not move or give her the chance to rise. He knew she was larger than him. Had seen her build as she was marched toward him. He enjoyed having her to look up at him. “You have vexed me and caused me to endure many sleepless nights.”

“I would not think a minor Lady such as myself would cause the mighty King to lose sleep,” she said. Her blue eyes turned colder at his mocking. “I am a simple island girl, Your Grace.”

“Oh,” he leaned close to her. “We both know that is not true.” Her eyes flashed, the ice in their depths melting into fire. “As I said, you are my guest and I wish to speak with you.”

“Do all your guests meet you in chains, Your Grace,” she asked with false innocence. “Are all bound and forced to kneel at your feet?”

“You speak more freely than a prisoner should, My Lady,” he responded.

“I am sorry, Your Grace,” she smiled bitterly. It did nothing for her looks. “I thought I was an honored guest. Please forgive my error, Your Grace.”

At one time, when he had a heart and laughed, he would have found her diverting and would have even wanted to push her a little more. That was before... before blood colored his hands with a crimson glove. That was when he was free from the bounds of his own making. At one time, Jaime Lannister would have grinned at someone speaking with such disregard for his name and title. He would have enjoyed it and urged her to be more defiant. He had been a foolish boy once, but now he was a King! He would be respected and take insolence from anyone! Especially an ugly wench who had killed his men throughout the Seven Kingdoms with her band of rebellious _knights_.

He felt the room grow tense. All gathered were waiting for him to scream for her blood. All expected him to pull his sword and run it through her meager chest, soak the floor in red. If it had been another, he would have- but that would take his entertainment away. The conversation between them had sparked a flame in his blood that hadn’t been there in many moons. It made him feel _alive_. The knowledge that he would kill her soon gave her a sense of freedom to speak with. He smirked again.

“You are quite right, Lady Brienne,” he leaned forward again. “I should unbind you and release the chain around your neck.” He nodded his head at the soldiers and they quickly obeyed. Jaime glared at them. They were weak and craven sheep like all the rest! She rubbed her neck and wrists. “Rise, Lady Brienne! Meet my eyes.” She slowly stood. They were nearly eye to eye. She had a touch more height than him but he did not have to strain to look into those brilliant blue orbs. “I ask you to be my guest at supper.” He bowed mockingly at her with a sardonic smirk. “The feast is prepared and ready for us to enjoy. What do you say, My Lady?”

Her mouth twisted in anger. She was caught and could not fight. He wanted to grin at his victory. He had the head of the snake that was twisting its way around his Kingdoms, killing all his men, in his grasp and there was nothing she could do. He would cut her head off eventually and put it on a pike for all to see. The one leading the charge against him was finally at his mercy.

She took a deep breath and said with fire to her words. “All Hail the King.”

Jaime grinned openly. _Indeed._

***********************

[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

**

Four Years Prior

**

Brienne pushed the small boat off the sand, climbing in before it floated too far from the shore. Her head was spinning and her heart was filled with hurt. She chanced a glance back at her home. It was a burning shell of the gorgeous castle it had been. Flames crawled up the sides and out the windows. Everything she had known was gone. Her body felt numb and her heart was heavy. The soldiers had appeared in the dead of night, swarming her tiny island. Men that she had known her entire life had fallen all around her. Their blood seeping into the cracks of the stone floors.

Tears welled up in her eyes. Her father had been dragged off as a traitor to the Crown. The charge against him was false and all who had met the honorable Lord Selwyn knew as much. He had never been anything but loyal... She swallowed roughly and grabbed the oars from the bottom of the small skiff. Her years in the training yard paid off as she rowed herself far from her home and into the darkness of the sea. She would have to find some place to port, the boat was not made for long voyages. It was barely made for short ones. She sent several prayers to the Seven Gods that her father would not be killed and that her brother had gotten away in the madness as she had.

It was not a prayer she believed would be answered. King Jaime was cruel and swift in his punishments. Many nobles had fallen in bloody messes at his feet. Nobles far more important than her father. Brienne knew he would not be spared the wrath of the King. Lord Selwyn would be put to death. The last image of her father would be of him, bruised and bloody, urging her to run before they took her as well.

It would be an image that would haunt her and fuel her. She had not seen Galladon but the King’s men would not leave an heir unpunished. In one night her family had been destroyed. Brienne pushed the hair from her face and rowed harder. She followed the stars and the moon to find her way. She would head west and hope to find shelter in a neighboring island. She would hide as best she could and try to blend in with the people. She would do as her father had taught her.

The Tarths had always known the Crown would come for them eventually. The tiny island had been loyal to their liege Lords. The Baratheon's had been their ruling House for many years, and now that once strong House had crumbled. The King was killed by his Queen's brother, Jaime Lannister, their new ruler. The remaining Baratheon brothers fell soon after. Their pathetic attempt to usurp the Golden Lion was swiftly and bloodily ended and both their heads placed on spikes for all to see.

Armies were disbanded and everyone learned that the new King would rule with a golden fist, a fist that would choke any that dared stand against him. While her father had not stood against the crown, he had not bowed easily before it either. The die had been cast and now they were being gathered and hunted.

She hadn't realized she was crying until she touched her face. The feeling of being alone gripped her and she shivered against the sudden cold. Her chest felt like her ribs were squeezing the life out of her. This was a nightmare she desperately wanted to awaken from. She wanted to be back in her room, curled on her bed under the soft linen, with the sound of the waves crashing softly against the shore as her lullaby.

The strain of rowing was wearing on her. Her shoulders were aching and her mind was growing tired. She held herself from giving into the desire to sleep. It would not do to slip into slumber while the King's soldiers searched for the last remaining Tarths. She had to stay awake. She had to get away. She had to avenge her beloved father and her sweet older brother. She would not die on this night.

Those thoughts re-energized her and she pushed the oars through the water more urgently. She was going to fight. She promised herself and her family. She would stand against the tyrant and free as many people from his control as she could. Brienne of Tarth might never be Lady of Evenhall again, but she would not be ash in the wind either. Her family would not be erased.

She would carry the legacy of her ancestors. She would proudly hold her head high. She would build her own army. Brienne would be a thorn in the King's side until she took him down or swung from the trees. King Jaime would never destroy her family. They would rise again because she still breathed.

******************

[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

**

Present Day

**

Brienne sat at the expansive table in the Great Hall and tried not to grimace in disgust. The table was overflowing with food. Roasted duck and goose- because one would just not do for the King of the Seven Kingdoms- and boar’s meat were placed on large plates. Vegetables, that small folk were literally dying to have fill their tables, filled expensive dishes and smelled delectable. Warm rolls sat in baskets, waiting to sop up the juices from the meat. It looked divine and Brienne's mouth watered. It had been almost six moons since she'd had a warm meal prepared with care.

Even as her body yearned to eat what had been made, she felt nauseous. She had seen the devastation that was taking hold of all those poor people who did not have the title of Lord or Lady attached to their names. Babes were dying from lack of food, children were wasting away and trying to steal from neighbors having just as little. Men and women ate just enough to keep themselves alive and gave the rest to needy little hands that would never know feasts like this. And all the while, their King ate his stomach full and probably let the rest go to waste.

Her eyes stung and her throat closed. She wished she had the courage to take her knife and stab him in his royal seat. Her vision cleared just enough to spy the dull blade by her plate. It would take a lot of force to use. It would not be a clean death- but it would be a death. The eye was soft enough. She thought about it, imagined the moment. Her heart started pounding and she pulled her hand out of her lap to grab the knife. The King, sitting to her right, placed his hand on hers. She jumped and snatched it back as if he had burned her flesh.

“I would think long and hard about what you were contemplating, My Lady,” Brienne clenched her teeth together tightly. “The guards would make quick work of you and I am known for my proficiency with a blade. Do not cut our time together short by being so foolish.”

She turned her head toward him. Her eyes met his emerald ones and she sucked in a breath. He was a beautiful man. Physically, he was everything a knight should be. His looks deserved to be immortalized in songs and sung about by drunken bards. His golden locks were curled and seem to capture the glow of the candles spread around the room. His skin barely showed his age, only a few wrinkles creased at his eyes. His nose had a slight curve to it, the only imperfection she could find and it really wasn't that noticeable. His lips were the softest of pinks and smooth without a crack to them. Yes, he was a handsome man on the outside. But his rotten core was all that she saw.

She straightened in her seat and placed her hand back in her lap. “I am sorry, Your Grace,” she tried to keep the venom out of her voice, but it was difficult. “I do not know what came over me.” She tried to sound meek and contrite, but it did not come out the way she hoped. She lowered her eyes to help her appear remorseful. 

He smirked at her. The expression was as cold and cutting as the dragonglass blade given to her by Jon before she set out on this mission. She felt a ping in her chest thinking about how she failed them all. The feeling had been compounded by those brutish men that took her belongings and weapons from her. They had not been kind... not that she expected them to be. Bruises lined her arms and back, but not her face. Curious how those men did not mar what has always been seen as ugly anyway. Jaime scooped some boiled carrots onto his plate and she took a moment to be amazed that he was serving himself. She glanced around her and for the first time noticed that only guards were with them.

“I think,” he started and she turned back to him. “You know exactly what you wanted to do with that knife.” She ground her teeth together to stop the flow of words from being spilled from her lips. “I think you've planned my demise for many years. The bloodier the better right, My Lady?”

Her hands twitched in her lap, clenching and unclenching again. Yes, she had thought of killing him. She had dreamed of it. She had plotted a million different ways to remove his head from his shoulders and his blackened heart from his chest. She had spent nights where only the thought of his death made her continue breathing. Because she had to live long enough to see his reign end... and if the Gods were merciful she would be the one to cause it.

But she couldn't say that. She could not let the emotions play across her face. She had to push everything down, send it to a hidden corner of her mind. She was in his domain- the golden lion's den. She was a mouse for him to bat around until he grew bored or she overstepped too far and then she would become decoration for his city's gate. Brienne had to play her best game of Cyvasse of her life and that would be extremely challenging because she had never been practiced at playing games.

“Killing a King is a great offense, Your Grace,” she said carefully. She could feel the sharks circling with their jaws open, ready to devour her. Her stomach tied in knots, blood rushed through her body so quickly, she felt light-headed. Jaime's eyes flashed at her words but that was the only outward response that showed she might have stepped too close to the edge of the cliff. “And would take much more cunning than I possess...” Words from the past came to her mind. _Flatter a man's ego and he will drop his guard, stroke a man's intelligence and he will believe himself above you. Confidence is a double-sided weapon, Brienne. Having it is good, having too much will lead to your end._ Ned Starks' voice echoed in her mind and she prayed she could follow his advice. “I am a simple island girl as I have said before. I have not the intelligence or the practice to kill a man such as yourself, Your Grace.”

He leaned back in his chair and sighed sadly. “I am disappointed, My Lady.” She froze in her seat and tried to plan her attack if necessary.

“What have I done to displease you?” The bite was slowly seeping back into her tone. She cursed herself. She really was the worse at playing games. It did not help that he was firmly in control. She hated being at a disadvantage. “I have come to dine with you as requested and I am speaking to you. Those were your demands, Your Grace.”

“I did,” he nodded, spearing a carrot with his fork. He chewed slowly, watching her. After he swallowed his mouthful, he continued. “You were much more entertaining chained and bound. Now that you are free, it seems as though your wicked tongue has left. A pity!” He tore a piece of meat from the roasted duck and ate it. Juices ran down his chin. He threw the half-eaten chunk of meat to the floor where a black and white cat lounged by the fireplace. She fought with herself not to berate and punch him. He would toss precious meat to a spoiled animal but would not feed his own people! She clenched her hands tighter together. “You are angry!” Her lips pressed together hard. “Ooh, yes,” he chortled. “Yes. Your cheeks are the color of my family's sigil. Your eyes are practically slicing me open. There is the girl from before. Tell me what have I done to earn this response when you are trying so hard not to react?”

“I have noticed your feast,” she worked to steady her voice. “That food could feed many starving souls and yet, we are the only two here... do you not think that unfair, Your Grace?”

“Fair,” he smirked. “I know my reputation and what I am called behind closed doors, My Lady.” His cat-like eyes flared for just a moment then the emotion was gone, replaced by cold indifference. “Fair has never been a word used to describe me.”

“No, Your Grace,” she glared. “It certainly is not.”

“Anger makes you more willing to speak freely,” he smiled. “Tell me, Lady Brienne, what do the other nobles say about me? What do you think about sitting here at my table? I have already seen your hand itch for a knife to cause me harm. What actions have I done to arise such passion in you? Such hatred?”

“You really pretend to be blind to your offenses?” Brienne snapped. “You really do not understand why I am not swooning at your feet and batting my eyes for your attention?” Her mind screamed at her to stop but she couldn't. Her tongue had been untied by his indifference to the suffering all around him and her own grievances. “Your people are starving for a crumb of bread and you sit at a table filled with food that will surely go to waste! Children are dying from famine and disease an*d you take all for granted... you feed a _cat_ and yet others die! This, Your Majesty, is what incites my passions.”

Jaime leaned forward, his face terrifyingly close to hers, but she dared not move. “You have not touched a morsel of food, Lady Brienne.” Her eyebrows came down and she frowned. “This meal was prepared for you as well. I may not eat everything before me, but you have not eaten anything at all. So tell me, My Lady, which one of us is truly wasteful?”

“I am not hungry,” she stuttered. “I would rather the food go to those that are.”

He wiped his mouth free from the drying juices with a cloth square. “You say you are not hungry but I saw your desire for the meal when you sat down.” He looked her up and down. “Lying does not become you, My Lady.”

She opened her mouth to deny his claims when her stomach betrayed her and let out a sound. Her cheeks flushed hotly at his smirk. Caught by the truth of his words, she reached into the breadbasket and pulled out a roll, taking a huge chunk off with her teeth. He stared at her, eating another carrot as she chewed. Swallowing the bite she said, “I'm not a Lady, Your Majesty.”

“What are you then? A wench?” He chuckled to himself. “Yes, that does fit you better.” She blanched and pulled her eyes from his. “Oh come now, wench! You have told me you are not a Lady, so I must find another term to use in your presence.”

His mocking words made her blush again. “If you must call me anything, I would prefer my given name, Your Grace.” She fixed him with her stare again. “My name is Brienne of Tarth, not wench.”

Jaime didn't say anything for a moment. The quiet was making her anxious. She wished he would do what he wanted to do- kill her- so that she could find some peace. This weird battle of wits- which she was sure to lose- was making her feel dim and unprepared. Two things she could not afford to be, especially in his den.

“You will have to earn your name,” he said and she felt a chill run down her spine. “Just as I had to earn mine.”

_By killing kings and kin alike!_ She wanted to say it. She wanted to rail at him and curse the name he took pride in. _Kingslayer. Kinslayer. Man without honor..._ Brienne grabbed her goblet of wine- he had insisted she drink, claiming it was rude to turn it away- and swallowed the bitterness that seemed to cover her tongue. She was aware he was watching her. She felt like she was an oddity to him. A freak to examine... and maybe that was exactly what she was. Maybe her ugly looks and mannish features worked to her benefit for once. He wanted to break her before he used her as an example.

“You are not well versed in keeping your emotions to yourself.”

She took one last swallow of wine. It made her cheeks pucker and she grimaced mildly. She did not have the taste for the drink, but it wet her dry mouth and she needed something to take her mind off the King's words. Placing the goblet down, she turned back to him. “I have no reason to, Your Grace.” Brienne removed the cloth napkin from her lap and placed it on the table. “We both know that I will be hung at the gallows or a blade will take my head, so I need not keep anything to myself.” Green met blue in a war to see who would blink first. “My death has always been set. I have never been naive about that.” She twisted her hands together, the only outward sign that she was truly scared and her brave words were false. “The only thing I do not know is the method by which I will meet the Stranger,” she arched her left brow. “That is up to you, Your Majesty.”

“You seem so positive I will kill you by morn,” he leaned back casually in his chair, his hands on the armrests. The black and white cat jumped on his lap, spinning around twice before settling to rest again. He idly petted the animal. His long fingers gently rubbing the fur with short strokes. “I have not signed your death notice yet.”

“I do not see you taking pity on me,” she countered.

He chuckled, darkly. “I do not take pity on anyone.” She shivered again. Her bones going cold. “But even if I did offer pity to those that deserve it...” He paused and stared at her hard. “I do not believe you would welcome it. You seem to be ready to fall upon your sword. As a true Knight would,” he clicked his tongue and smirked. “Not that you could ever be a true knight. The lack of a cock between your legs makes that impossible.”

“You have a cock,” she snarled before her brain could stop her tongue. “And you have never been a true knight either. I guess we have something in common, Your Grace.” Her blood was running so hot, and her hurt over his words was so raw, she forgot herself. Her entire body felt like she was sinking in wildfire.

“Careful,” he said. His voice was merely a whisper but it was strong and held promises of tortures to come if she dared speak against him again. “I find you amusing but that can change swiftly and your prediction of your death will come to pass.” She shook with fear and anger. “I believe our supper is complete. You do not seem to appreciate the work my servants had put into making you a marvelous feast and I grow tired.” He smiled at her, his expression as sharp as the dragonglass blade she wished she still carried. “I will have someone take you to your chamber.”

That startled her. _My chamber!_ Did he not mean the Black Cells? She was confused and that caused her to speak again, “My chamber, Your Grace? Is that what you call the Black Cells?”

“Of course not! !” He exclaimed to the annoyance of the cat that meowed at him and jumped down to the floor. “You will have chambers of the grandest comfort. You are my honored guest, wench.” Her glare sharpened and he grinned back at her. “You will be given the best accommodations. A bedchamber in the King's wing... right next door.” The blood rushed from her head for the second time that night. “I want to make sure you are taken care of _properly_.”

Her stomach dropped open. “Why would you place a prisoner of the Crown so close to your personal chamber? Do you not worry about your safety?”

“Oh,” he leaned close and took her face in his hand. Once again there was a battle over who would blink first. “I do not think I will have to worry about that. If you wish, however, I can place that chain back around your neck and tie you to the bedpost.” She swallowed. “Would you like that, wench?”

She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his, “I would not, Your Grace.”

He removed his hand and smiled at her. “Then it is settled! Come,” he rose from his seat and waited for her to do the same. “Let us retire for the night.”

She could do nothing but follow the King into his own personal sleeping space. Guards surrounded them as they made their way down halls that twisted and turned. She got lost in both the castle’s amplitude and the maze of her thoughts. She did not know what game this cruel king was playing but she was sure she would find out soon... and she was also positive it would not end well for her.

He stopped at a door and pointed to the one further down on the right. “That is my bedchamber,” he looked at her. “This one is yours.” Jaime opened the door and she gasped. It was beautiful and large, fit for a Queen... she was once again confused but this time did not voice it. “I ask that you not take my generosity for granted, wench. I can always send you to the Black Cells if you disrespect me any more than you already have.”

She didn't want to, but she nodded and stumbled her way through a lopsided curtsy to the amusement of the King. She rose back up and met his eyes. “I am most humbled by my dwelling. Thank you, Your Majesty.” The words were cold and hollow. He recognized it and smiled bitingly. “I do not want to cover your fine linen in mud though and seeing as I only have the rags on my-”

He held up a hand, “Do you really believe I would let a guest go without the proper attire?” He clicked his tongue and she frowned. “There are items in the closet as well as in the dresser for your needs. I do hope you will like what I have picked for you. Goodnight, wench!”

Brienne walked over the threshold and into her bedchamber-prison. Tears welled up as she heard the door close and the lock click into place. She was trapped at his mercy. She walked to the closet to see what he had left for her and felt the bread she had ingested rise in her throat. Dornish women would be proud. Fine silks, cut low and meant to caress the womanly form in all shades, were lined on hooks before her.

She was embarrassed just by looking at them. She did not have the body or the confidence to wear such things and she had no doubt the King knew that. Her heart slammed against her chest. She would have to make do until he killed her or she somehow escaped... Tears silently fell from her eyes. How was she going to survive this?

She pulled a light blue gown from the closet and closed her eyes. She would be a cow in silk in that apparel. She could hear the laughing voices now. This was the perfect punishment for her. The King was as cruel as she believed him to be. She placed the dress back and moved to the dresser, she took out a night shift to wear. It was short and thin and once it was on, she could see it barely covered any place on her body. Another wave of humiliation slammed into her. 

She hated him. King Jaime- she would curse him until her dying breath...

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	2. A Mummer's Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jaime held the goblet of wine loosely in his grip. The richness of the drink was lost on him. He had never been one to indulge in the pastime of drunken debauchery. He liked to keep a clear mind. He had seen what too much wine could do to someone. He had seen his beloved sister lust after it as if it was her true lover. He had seen his brother turn to it for comfort when the whores could no longer warm his cold soul. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be long... sorry! I am speechless by the response to the first chapter. My beta can attest to the fact I was extremely nervous about posting this story because it's much darker than anything I have written before. I'm so humbled by the way you have embraced Dark!King!Jaime. He is a lot of fun to write. Thank you so much to all that commented, left kudos or just read the first chapter. It means so much to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
> 
> \-----------
> 
> Thank you to my patient beta that deals with all of my ridiculousness and continues to be my friend. She is an amazing cheerleader and can talk me down from the highest of writer's ledges. All section dividers are made by her. She is so talented in all she does. I'm so thankful to have her in my corner. She is also a fantastic writer. Please if you haven't already, go to her page. [ https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymaya/pseuds/merrymaya ]. My personal favorite story is: As unshakable as the plague. So funny!
> 
> \----------
> 
> Thank you to Ro Nordmann for all the beautiful posters she has made for me. They always take my breath away. I also thank you for reading some of my less than perfect first drafts and giving me advice. It helps so much to have a friend I can count on. She also has a collection of wonderful stories that I highly recommend. [ https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/pseuds/Ro_Nordmann ]
> 
> \----------
> 
> Thank you to my test readers: ILikeBlue { https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikeblue/pseuds/ilikeblue } and River_Melody_Pond { https://archiveofourown.org/users/River_Melody_Pond/pseuds/River_Melody_Pond }. You both have been great supporters of this little story and I'm so grateful!
> 
> \----------

[ ](https://imgur.com/B9OzXQB)

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Chapter 2: A Mummer’s Play

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

Jaime held the goblet of wine loosely in his grip. The richness of the drink was lost on him. He had never been one to indulge in the pastime of drunken debauchery. He liked to keep a clear mind. He had seen what too much wine could do to someone. He had seen his beloved sister lust after it as if it was her true lover. He had seen his brother turn to it for comfort when the whores could no longer warm his cold soul. He had seen King Robert spill generous amounts on many a woman’s breasts and use his tongue to wipe them clean. He looked down into the glass at the burgundy liquid. He and the wench had something in common when it came to the choice of beverage… he would rather down a pint of ale to a goblet of fine wine.

He lifted his cup toward the painting of his twin, silently toasting her and then in the next breath cursing her. The oil painting that hung in his bedchamber taunted him. Her green eyes stared at him blankly, her lips curled in a permanent superior smirk, her delicate features forever immortalized in perfect hues. He grimaced and glared at the offending piece of art. His arm pulled back to throw his goblet at that rendering. Dornish red splashed over his hand as he stopped his throwing motion before the cup left his grip. 

His heart, the blackened organ residing in his chest, was not into the act. He wished sometimes he had the fire of his youth, all cockiness and bravado. But that was when he cared, that was long ago. He placed the drink down on the circular table in his room and moved over to the window. He stared out at the city below. At this time of night, the ports of King's Landing almost looked beautiful. The pale light of the moon did not have the power to expose the dirtiness of his capital. It did not show the piles of shit and puddles of piss. It did not give unmask the criminals sliding from one darkened corner to the other. It cast the dwellings below in a softness that really did not exist.

The wench's words from supper rang in his head, _You really pretend to be blind to your offenses? You really do not understand why I am not swooning at your feet and batting my eyes for your attention? Your people are starving for a crumb of bread and you sit at a table filled with food that will surely go to waste!_ Jaime grimaced in anger. How dare that beast of a woman act like she knew anything about him?! He pushed from the window and paced his floor like a caged lion. 

He had watched her all through supper. The way she had fought with her instincts to kill him where he sat amused him in a dark way. He had had those same instincts once upon a time. He had recognized the curling of desire to end the enemy in her face. Those giant blue eyes of hers did her no favors. Her thoughts flickered easily across them. He had also seen the true essence of her goodness in their endless depths. There was a light in her, an honesty that he found desirable. Her fire and quick-snapping temper made his blood push through his veins quicker than it had in years... The sweet innocence was confounding to him. 

He wanted to strip her of that morality. He hated to look at her and see the pristine shine of her soul. He wanted to drag her into the mud with the rest of them. She should not be held above him! No one should be held above him! He was the fucking King! He had taken what was his by blood and by force! He had covered the Great Hall in the crimson life of those standing in his way. He had done what others had feared to do and he had done it with a smirk on his face. 

Pushing the thick blonde locks from his eyes, Jaime remembered a time when he was just a knight. The years right before he sat on the most uncomfortable throne in Westeros. He had been a foolish boy back then. As green as a new squire and just as stupid. He had not realized how cruel the world could be. How only the ones acting in a hateful manner lived long enough to tell their stories. All he had to do was think of the man he had admired to see the truth of that. Arthur Dane had been good and true and he had been slain in his duty. 

The _Sword of the Morning_ had been the most chivalrous and honorable among them. He had lived and died by the rules of Knighthood. He had been killed at the base of a tower, his face slammed into the horse shit on the ground. His last words a pledge to his king... Jaime's anger grew at the thoughts of his mentor. If Arthur had been a dirtier knight, one that would stab a man in the back, he would still be around. He would still be in that fucking white cloak and Jaime would not be king. 

But the fates, or those bastard Gods that so many people believed in, had designed a different world. One with him sitting on the throne and his family laid to waste. He looked at the painting of his twin again. She would always haunt him. She would always cause his heart to pound and his hands to itch with the need to touch her. He smirked a little thinking of the woman currently residing in his sweet sister’s chambers down the hall. 

Brienne would be horrified to know about the crimes committed on those soft sheets. She would blush and stutter, and outrage at his indecency would cloud those large sapphire eyes. His smirk turned into a grin. Cersei would be horrified as well by the woman resting on her bed. Thinking about his twin’s burning rage over giving Brienne of Tarth the Queen’s chambers filled him with a sick joy. Oh he could almost see her green eyes filling with contempt now and it made him smile a little. Two women- hating him for different reasons, but neither any less passionately. 

Tyrion would have found the situation to be extremely amusing. His sharp-witted brother would have been ready with a swift quip at his expense. The dwarf would have told Jaime he was being short-sighted but then laugh at his choices. Jaime sat heavily on his bed. Thinking about Tyrion was always loaded with different emotions. At one time, Tyrion had looked at him with reverence. The big brother that could do no wrong. By the time the crown was placed on Jaime’s golden head, that look was gone. It was replaced with another one just as strong. 

He shook his head to free himself of his thoughts and pulled his tunic over his head. He needed sleep. He needed to be ready for the next day. He had a prisoner to entertain… a slow smile filled his face. He thought about those items he got for her. Oh, how he wished he could have seen her expression when she saw what she would be wearing at Court. 

Jaime couldn’t wait to see the beastly woman wrapped in the finest of silk. His body warmed just thinking about the expanse of skin put on display. The next day was sure to be filled with just as much fire as this day had been and Jaime couldn’t wait. It had been too long since his blood had sung so strongly.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

Brienne stood in front of the opened closet. Her eyes were moving from one garment to the next, hoping there would be something she could wear without being so exposed. The prayer sent to the Maiden fell at her feet unheard. Resigning to her fate, she extracted a light green gown from the rainbow of shades and held it before her.

She swallowed roughly. She knew this was meant to tear her confidence down. But the King didn’t realize that when it came to her body, she had none to begin with. He was punishing her with a pain she had felt all her life it seemed. People have been commenting on her ugliness and lack of womanly charm since she was three and ten. It was a well-fed lion that was sated from all the vicious words. By now she was used to the sneers and cruelty that came from Lord and Ladies. She was used to it, but it still hurt. Barbed words dripping with venom. She placed the dress on the edge of the bed. On anyone other than her, it would be sexy and gorgeous… she knew better than to believe anyone would think that when looking in her direction.

Walking over to the basin in the corner, she dipped her hands in the water. She dropped her head and let the cool liquid run over her hair, taking the rest of the dirt from the pale strands. She rubbed gently at her skull and thought back to the night before. She still did not understand why the king would keep her alive. She was not that important in the grand plan of the rebels. Yes, she had led the charge and killed those who harmed innocents, but there were many more who could replace her. 

Keeping her alive was a calculated plan by the hateful King… she just didn’t know why. She reached next to the basin for the chunk of soap that rested there. The light fragrance of daisies tickled her senses. She had not had a scented soap touch her skin in nearly twelve moons. The last one had been in Winterfell and had smelt of sandalwood. Being so close with men more than women, Brienne had always gravitated toward the earthier fragrances. She felt no need to be perfumed when none looked at her as anything other than a beast. 

She used the white cloth provided to her to pat dry her hair and her body. She was delaying the inevitable and she knew that. She had to emerge from this gilded cage eventually or he would have one of his pawns come to drag her out. Brienne pulled the night shift from her body and the thin fabric slipped to the floor in a puddle. She took a deep breath and grabbed the gown.

The material flowed over her body like a waterfall. The soft layers of silk trickled down to hug her upper body, thick waist and flared at the hips. The green gown was low in the front- showing what little she had to offer there, and dipped lower than any dress she had ever worn in the back. She turned in the looking glass. Her entire body flushing in embarrassment. The Dornish women were known for their sex appeal. Many stories were whispered about Prince Oberyn and his multitude of mistresses. Clothing there was sexy and did little to cover the womanly body. She had seen women in Highgarden wearing some styles that were more risque than she was used to in her travels, but had never given the clothing much thought.

Westeros- with the expectation of Highgarden- was much more reserved and Brienne herself was even more so. She gently moved her leg and another blush heated her skin. There were slits on either side and exposed her long legs when the material moved. She closed her eyes. Maybe if she stayed hidden, maybe if she refused to be dragged from the room, he would just kill her and save her from this humiliation.

She was not foolish enough to believe that would happen. He had made it clear that he would use her to show those daring to rise against him that he was the one in control. She was a pawn, like so many others before her. Brienne opened her eyes again and walked over to the closet. She pushed all the dresses to the side and found the item she was looking for. One cloak- that was all he had given her, but it would cover some of her body. The material of the cloak was as light at the gown but was made from cotton instead of silk. The color was a deep midnight blue and she gratefully clasped it around her shoulders.

At least her back would be covered and- if she could sit just right- some of her front as well. Her legs would be on display, but there was little she could do to stop that. A knock at the door made her heart fill with dread. The time had come and the parade was about to start. She would be the main attraction in the mummer’s play with King Jaime directing the show.

She walked to the door expecting to see one of the brutish guards there to take her by force to the King. What stood before her instead was a young woman with large brown eyes and full wavy brown hair. Her heart-shaped face was pale. She grinned widely at Brienne, just before a hand came up to cover the teeth that had obviously been broken by violence. Brienne’s stomach turned. King Jaime’s cruel type of punishment was shown to her. There were marks on her arms from a whip being used, scars old and healed. “Good morn, Mi’Lady!” Her voice was high and youthful. “I hope ya slept well.”

“Uh…” Brienne was at a loss. She didn’t know how to react to the small girl in front of her. Her muscles had been tensing in anticipation of a large, sneering man to force her to meet the king. Now she was left with that stiff feeling and she did not know how to begin to relax. She glanced around the young woman to see if a guard was around. It did not make sense to her that the King would only send an innocent girl to fetch her. “I… Yes, I did,” she lied not knowing what else to do.

The young girl’s eyebrows came together. “Are you well, Mi’Lady?”

“I am well,” Brienne was shivering in the gown. The castle was warm enough but she felt almost naked in her attire. “May I ask why you were wondering about my health?”

“Ya’re shakin’ and quite flushed,” the handmaiden answered. “I can bring ya some tea to warm ya, if ya would like?” She paused and looked behind her. “His Majesty is most anxious to see ya. He is in the Great Hall now ready to break his fast with ya, but I could tell him you are not well.”

Brienne had a flash of this innocent girl being taken by the guards at King Jaime’s command, and getting beaten because she allowed her to defy the king. “No, no,” she said quickly as her heart clenched. “I am fine.” She swallowed the rising bile in her throat. “Let us not keep the King waiting… I’m sorry what is your name?”

“Pia, Mi’Lady,” the young girl’s smile was still hidden by her hand. Brienne understood the desire to hide her teeth. She often did it herself. “The King has asked me to care for ya.” She was so proud of her duty, she was practically beaming. “It is quite an honor to be asked by the King to take care of his honored guest.”

Brienne shivered again at the word _guest_. She felt like anything but a guest to the King. “It is very kind of him to offer your services to me, but I do not think I will require them.”

The openness on Pia’s face crumbled and her hand dropped as well as her head. Her chin came to rest on her chest. “Have I done sumthing to anger ya? I can tell King Jaime that I don’t make ya happy and he can make sumone else yer handmaiden.”

“No!” Brienne exclaimed, cursing herself for her lack of awareness. She should have known better than to say what she did. King Jaime would not take kindly to her refusing the young woman and Pia would be punished as a result of her thoughtlessness. “I am most grateful that you are my handmaiden,” the smile returned as well as the hand to cover her broken teeth. “I just have very little that will need attending to. I do not believe the King will have me residing here long and I do not have many belongings.”

“King Jaime is very interested in ya, Mi’Lady,” Pia said with a happy tone to her voice. “I am sure ya will be his guest for a long while.”

Words meant to comfort sent a chill down her spine instead. She was not looking forward to being here for a long while. She was not looking forward to any of what the King had in store for her. She straightened her shoulders and gathered up her courage. Her father had not raised her to be craven and she would not start now. 

“Please, Pia,” she said with as much calm as she could. “Take me to the Great Hall to meet the King.”

“Follow me, Mi’Lady,” the young woman replied. 

Pia walked with a bounce in her step as she weaved her way through the halls of the Red Keep. Her easy manner and light-hearted spirit confused Brienne. How could anyone be so happy at the thought of seeing the King? The thoughts rushed around in Brienne’s head… how broken was this poor girl? And how long would it take before she was the same? Brienne set her teeth. She would never break. She would never be broken. Not by this evil man! She would be strong. She had to be.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

Jaime’s eyes were on the doors. His body appeared relaxed as he sat on the dais in front of a table full of food and surrounded by Kingsguard. He reached for his goblet and sipped the warm water. His head was throbbing a little from the sweet wine he had been drinking the night before. Another reason to despise the wretched drink.

The doors opened slightly and Pia entered with Brienne in tow. He grinned behind his chalice. He had taken a calculated risk by sending the servant girl to fetch the wench and not an armed guardsman. It was a risk… but he knew his gamble would pay dividends in the end. The wench was too kind-hearted to hurt a child and too noble to flee when another’s well-being was endangered.

She knew what type of man he was. She had heard about him killing friends, foes and family. Brienne of Tarth would not put a young girl’s life in his hands if she could avoid it. She had no idea of the leverage she had just given him and he licked his teeth in glee. _This was what being noble does, wench,_ he thought with some disgust. _It gave other people power. It gives me power._

His eyes followed her as she walked toward him. Her displeasure was shown on her face. The high points of her cheeks were the color of his family’s sigil. Her lips were nearly white from being pressed so tightly together. Her shoulders were set in a rigid manner. Jaime frowned. The cloak… where had that come from? He did not remember specifying that to be added to her closet. His gaze traveled from her shoulders down slowly. Everything was hidden! Out of the carefully selected garments that he had chosen just for her, where the fuck had that cloak come from?

He waited until she was closer to say anything at all. Jaime wanted to have her close when his next words were spoken. She paused at the base of the dais. Her eyes were downcast but he wasn’t fooled. He knew that she may appear to submit to this treatment, however, if given the chance she would gut him in a second. Jaime could appreciate that. Not that he would tell her that. He stood from his chair and smiled down at her. He found himself enjoying the difference in height more and more. Having her lift her head to see him was a physical way for him to show her her place. He knew that if they were on the same level it would give her the advantage.

And advantage was one thing he was unwilling to give up. Jaime moved behind the chair next to his and pulled it out. Her sapphire eyes watched the movement with surprise and suspicion. She really shouldn’t. Jaime had been a Knight- dishonorable and hated- true, but a Knight- for most of his life. He would show this maiden that he was taught well, even if she would not like all his kindnesses. 

“Come, Wench,” he said gripping the wooden high back of the chair. “Sit and let us try to share a meal. Last night was not pleasant for you. I do hope this morn will be better.”

Her steps faltered and she tried to keep the grimace off her face. She climbed the platform and came around the long table to the seat he had pulled out for her. Brienne swallowed roughly. Her eyes cutting him with ice as sharp as knives. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Carefully, as not to open the cloak too far, she sat down. He pushed the chair in, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Are you cold, Wench?”

She turned her head quickly. Her eyes wide. “Why would you ask, Your Grace?”

“I have noticed you are wrapped quite tightly in your cloak. If you are cold, I can have a servant stoke the fire in the hearth. It will bring warmth to the room and will surely make you more comfortable.” He returned to his seat and waved a servant over.

“No,” she said swiftly and Jaime stopped. Her face lost most of the color from before. “I am fine as I am, Your Grace.”

“Then I must ask that you remove your cloak,” he grabbed the goblet of water in front of him. “I wish to see how the gown looks on you. I did try ever so hard to make sure it would fit your rather interesting proportions.” 

The color returned to her face- red and blotchy- covering her skin and flowing down her neck. Her long fingers reached up after a moment’s hesitation to the clasp. Her intense blue eyes looked around them, taking in all the Kingsguard standing at attention before coming back to him. The metal snap released and the dark material fell from her shoulders in a puddle at her back. Jaime struggled to maintain a stoic expression. The effect of seeing her in that dress was unexpected. Her creamy shoulders- dotted extensively in freckles- were broad and strong looking. The smooth skin had a few scars and some bruises that were yellowing and appeared to be fresh. The large v of the bodice showed that she had very little in the way of a chest, but the small mounds she did have had a curve and softness to them. Her nipples were tight and pebbled against the light material of the dress. His eyes travelled further down and took a long sip from his goblet to stop his mouth from going dry. While walking the cloak had not revealed her best feature to him. But now… the splits on the sides opened and he got a glimpse of her strong and shapely legs. The skin there appeared soft and inviting. He saw the same dots of caramel against the paleness on them as he had on her face and chest. A thought entered his mind before he could stop it, _ I wonder if those freckles are everywhere. I wonder what they would taste like…_

He cleared his throat and forced a smirk onto his face. “Much better, wouldn’t you agree, Wench?”

“Yes,” she said with scarcely contained emotion. Her voice did not give away anything, but her face- oh her expressive face- it was positively screaming. The redness on her skin was darker than he had seen it so far and her lips were pulled so tight that he could barely make out their shape. “Thank you for the garments, Your Majesty. It was kind of you to take the time to have them ready for me. I do wonder how you knew they would fit. As you said I have very unique dimensions. Large were other women are small, small where others are large.” Her eyes became stormy and her hands tightened into fists in her lap.

His eyes fell to her breasts again. Yes, most women had more to show, and he had seen his fair share from women wishing to gain favor with the King. Hers looked like those of a woman first blooming, but he felt his blood rise in temperature and his cock harden in his breeches. The flashes of arousal were disconcerting. He wanted to embarrass the woman, not react to her! 

He took another sip of water. The wine he drank the night before must still be messing with his mind. He could not be attracted to such a person. He had only been with one, only loved one, back when he could love; and this wench was nothing like his twin. Jaime glanced at his Kingsguard and noticed eyes on the wench. There was a heat in some of their glares. Their eyes travelled along her body, caressing her legs, in the way his had. The temperature of his blood changed. The amusement he thought he would feel was not there. A rage he was not expecting fueled him. 

“Put your cloak back on,” he growled. She looked startled and he couldn’t blame her. Her body went still. She did not move to do as he said, her hands shook. He leaned forward, anger lighting his words up and causing them to be even harsher. “Put. Your. Cloak. Back. On.”

He did not believe it possible, but she flushed even more. From embarrassment or wrath, he did not know nor did he care. She reached behind her and took the black material in her hands. The movement caused her dress to shift a little more and expose the tops of her legs. He swallowed roughly. His cock hardened further. He wanted to touch the skin that the dress revealed to him. Jaime put the cup of water down and rubbed his hand against the fabric of his pants. His palms were sweaty and he suddenly felt like the room was too warm.

She clasped the metal together and her body was hidden from view again. He released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding in. Maybe he should call for a whore to be brought to his chambers. He must be needing to fuck badly if this was his reaction to the wench in front of him. It had been almost seven years since he had rutted with a woman. Seven years since his sweet sister’s legs had clamped around his waist as he pumped his cock into her wet core. 

“Eat, Wench,” he commanded. “I will not have a guest of mine die from lack of food.” Brienne glared at him and that cooled his blood further. _Yes,_ he thought, _stay angry. Anger is good._

Brienne looked over the food. Hard boiled eggs, fresh bread, boiled vegetables and meats. It was nothing as extravagant as the night before, but the spread was still fit for a King. Her mouth loosened a little and she placed an egg on her plate. He shook his head and loaded his own plate with food. 

“You must eat more than that,” he said with a smile.

“Why is that, Your Majesty?” She questioned as she hit the top of the egg with her spoon to break it.

“Because,” Jaime placed a thick piece of roast in his mouth and chewed quickly. “I wish to show you our lovely Capital! You will need your energy. It is not a small city and walking will take much out of you.” Her face lost color for the second time and he smiled more genuinely. The momentary loss of control after seeing her in that dress was gone. He felt balanced again with her being under his power and reluctantly doing as he wished. “I want to show you off to all those who had whispered your name as their survivor.”

The spoon fell to her plate and she stuttered, “But… Your Majesty…”

“Yes,” he wiped his hands on a napkin then tore a piece of meat off his plate. He could feel the cat sliding in and out of his legs. He dropped the piece down on the ground. “Is there a problem, Wench?”

“I,” she looked around the room like a frightened deer. Her movements were skittish and wary. He watched her carefully. The reaction was one he had been hoping for. He knew of her power on the battlefield, how she moved confidently with a sword and did not fear a man when met on an even ground. But walking through the city dressed as she was sent her into a panic. He could see the desire to run in her eyes. He recognized it. This woman was a warrior that felt incomplete without a weapon at her side. He was sure she would plead for him to kill her. It would be nicer in her eyes. “I have seen the city before, Your Grace. I do not wish to take time away from your duties as King. I can stay in my,” she swallowed hard again, “chambers and be out of your way.”

“Nonsense!” He exclaimed. “You are an honored guest. How many times must I tell you such? As King, it _is_ part of my duty to ensure you are treated as such.” He cracked his own egg and peeled the shell back. “I do hope you are pleased with your handmaiden.”

She hit the egg with more force than was necessary and his eyebrows arched. Her expression was back to being cold. “It was most kind of you to have her sent to me.”

“Do you take issue with her?”

“I take issue with you, Your Grace,” the snap that he so enjoyed yesterday was back and glee filled him. “She has many markings on her body. Do you treat all your servants so poorly?”

He pursed his lips together. Jaime’s hand tightened on the spoon and he glared at her. “You wish to tell me how to treat my own staff?”

“I wish you would…” she closed her mouth so suddenly, he could hear her teeth click together. 

“Oh, do not stop now, Wench,” he leaned forward, his mouth curling into a provoking smile. “I am dying to know what you wish for…”

A rare smirk appeared on her face. It was there and gone so fast that he would have missed it if he hadn’t been paying close attention. “I believe you might be mistaken, Your Grace. My wishes are not ones that would bring you joy.”

“But they would bring you happiness,” he picked up a roll from the pile and broke it open, biting into half. “Would your wishes entail my head on a pike? Or would you rather have my death include more pain… a slow acting poison,” she narrowed her eyes and he chuckled. “No, no… that would not be your preference. You would want my blood to coat the floor and your sword.”

“You speak of your death so easily,” she noted. “Most do not embrace the end of their time on this land so simply.”

“Death does not scare me, Wench,” he chew on the other side of his roll. “It is a part of life. We will all meet the Stranger. No one lives forever. It would be foolish to worry about things I can not control. Do you not agree?”

Brienne paused. Her eyes falling to her lap before returning to his. “I do agree, Your Grace.” She took a roll herself and started to nibble at it. Jaime watched her lips close around the piece of bread. It slowly disappeared in her mouth, her pink tongue coming out to swipe at crumbs that fell. His breeches became tight again and his mind wandered to other places those lips could close around. Brienne’s innocence showed as she did not react to his shifting or at how his hand trembled- oh, so slightly. 

Yes, he definitely needed to send for a whore. She cleared her throat and picked the shell from her egg. She looked around her plate and finally noticed that she did not even have a dull knife this morn. He was never going to be as smart as Tyrion, but he did learn. She looked over at him and bit into the egg the way she ate the roll. He nearly growled. Maybe she did know. Maybe she was not as innocent as he believed her to be. 

The thought of her wrapped around a man, a cock between her legs as she moaned and begged for him to push harder, sent a flood of emotion through him. His hand crushed the rest of the bread that was in it. Why this thought made him rage, he did not know. But it did. He took his goblet of water from the table swiftly, causing some to splash over the top. Maybe he was going mad.

She finished her egg and wiped her hands on the cloth by her plate. “Are you ready, Wench?” He stood and moved to pull out her chair as she was pushing it back. Before she could stand he leaned over her ear and said, “Tomorrow I will help you pick out your garment for the day. I want to make sure you know how important a guest you are to me.”

She shivered and a fiery blush covered her skin. He grinned behind her. Whether the reaction was from fear or arousal, he couldn’t say for sure. But he could admit even if only to himself- He did enjoy pushing her. And he would make it a point to find out who has laid between those thick thighs.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

Brienne wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. She walked behind the King’s horse as he sat astride the beast looking like victorious conqueror. His blonde hair caught the wind in a disgustingly perfect way. She really wished he wasn’t so beautiful to behold. She wished his outside matched his rotten core. She looked down to sidestep a pile of horse shit, almost running into the soldier that was walking beside her on her left. She was surrounded by guards. Two were in the front of the king, two were behind her and four were on either side. She glanced about her, she wished for a chance to run, but knew it would not be on this day.

King’s Landing was everything she remembered it being. As a young girl, before all the disruption in the monarchy, when King Robert still sat on the throne, her father had brought her to the Capital. Even then she had recognized the dirtiness under the facade. People were less starved now that she thought about it but they were still suffering. Brienne had walked these same streets and had seen the same anguish. 

The small folks gathered around to watch her be paraded. She was not chained as a prisoner but all knew that was what she was. Words were thrown- _Bitch_, _cunt_ and more- until the King ended the verbal assault quickly. No one wanted the wrath of the King upon them. His defense of her confused her mind even more. She stared down at the street as she walked slowly behind the white palfrey. Her nose wrinkled at the smell coming from all over and filth that covered the cobble stones.

“Do you find this city to be less than ideal?” She looked up at the King who was glancing over his shoulder at her. “You do not seem pleased.”

She took a deep breath, trying to control her tone and her embarrassment. The city streets were still lined with small folks coming out to see her walk behind their king. She ducked her head, trying to burrow further into the black material around her shoulders. She was thankful King Jaime had let her wear the cloak out. If she had been in only that dress with no covering… “I would not say I am displeased, Your Majesty.”

Jaime jumped from his horse and she frowned. He even looked elegant while dismounting. How could the Gods grace him with so much and make him so cruel? He handed the reins of the horse to one of the squires who grinned at the King and eagerly led the horse to the barn. She paused. She had not realized they made it back to the Keep already. She had been too focused on her own embarrassment and coming up with ways to kill him while he slept. 

“If you would not say you are displeased,” he tilted his head slightly, “what would you say?”

“Why do you care about my opinions?” She snapped before she could stop herself. Her stomach was in knots and her body was held so tightly she was exhausted. “It is your city. My thoughts have no bearing on the way you rule it.”

“You come from Tarth,” he said suddenly. She jerked back at the mention of her home. She tried not to think about the island that was taken from her family. It was a festering wound under her skin- a poison that was both killing her and fueling her. “A tiny little island. Not much in population. Or in goods, but I have heard it is quite beautiful.”

“It was,” she snarled softly. “It was until it was taken and left to rot in the hands of nobles that care not for the people- only their status above them. My father was good and just and you took our home from us!”

Jaime’s green eyes narrowed. His nostrils flared but that was the only two things that gave away his anger at her words. His face was smooth of worry. His body relaxed. She wanted to slam her fists into his chest and make him _feel_ all the pain she had been carrying with her for four years. Tears welled up in her eyes. She had never learned of her father or brother’s fate. She never knew how they had died. But at night, when all she had were her thoughts, she came up with gruesome endings to both of their lives. The cruel King cared so little about her family that even their deaths were erased.

Brienne was the last Tarth. The last of a great line that had Kings and Queens, Knights and Ladies, Lords and Septs… the fate of her family fell on her shoulders and she had let them down. She was going to meet the same fate as her father and Galladon. She would be slaughtered like a pig- forgotten in the mud. Her head turned away from him. She would not let him see her tears. She would not give him that. She would not give him _anything_!

“Your father was loyal to a false King,” he said quietly. His voice was next to her ear, his heated breath danced along her cheek. She tried to suppress a shiver. Her insides quivered in a weird way and she felt a fluttering in her lower belly. Brienne bit her lip. She turned her head and gasped at how close he was. Their noses nearly brushed, their bodies were mere inches apart. Her breathing changed. “I did as any strong King would. I took out my enemies and moved people that were loyal to _me_ in their place.”

“My father would have never raised an army against you,” she responded.

“Unlike his daughter,” Jaime countered. 

“I never had an army,” Brienne felt her cheeks redden. “I only had myself.”

“And the backing of the North,” he commented. Her mouth went slack. “Oh, did you think I did not know?” He leaned back mercifully and Brienne could breathe a little easier. “I know much about you, Wench. I was not lying yesterday. You kept me up many a night worrying about where the Lady Knight would strike next.”

“Should I be flattered I caught the attention of the Great King Jaime?”

He laughed. The sound made the fluttering in her stomach intensify. She frowned more deeply. She didn’t understand what was happening. “You are calling me a great King! It is good to see you finally coming around to embrace your part as honored guest.”

“This is a mummer’s play,” she hissed. She looked around them and noticed that all the small folk were returning to their daily chores and paid them no attention anymore. “The audience is no longer watching,” Brienne opened her arms wide, the cloak spreading to reveal her dress. The King looked down at her body, and she flushed hotly, quickly shutting her arms again. “Can we return to the castle, Your Grace? I wish to retire to my chambers.”

“The day is not over,” her eyebrows came together. His voice was deeper than before. She had noticed the difference when they broke their fast as well. She bit her lip. She could not seem to understand this man. “You wish to retire so soon?”

_I wish to be away from you,_ she thought. She wanted to remove this dress and hide from all that could see her. She wanted to spit at him for all the hurt he had caused her. But instead she bit her tongue and nodded shortly. “I do, Your Grace.”

He moved some hair from her cheek and she flinched. His hand dropped from her skin and he grinned at her. “As you wish, Wench.”

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

Jaime laid back on the bed. His green eyes staring at the woman before him. She smiled in a practiced way. She knew what made men _want_. He briefly wondered if Tyrion had ever lain as he was waiting for the prostitute to join him. He quickly pushed the thought from his mind. Thinking of his brother while a woman stripped from her clothes was not wise. Especially when he was already having a difficult time focusing.

The whore pushed her white gown from her shoulders. The dress fell to the floor leaving her in nothing. Jaime let his eyes travel down her body. Her breasts were high with nipples that were already erect. She was slim- too slim. Her ribs were showing so much he could count them. His eyes travelled down her body, her hipbones weren’t rounded and soft. Her legs were nice, but did not quite match the wench’s. He stopped… was he really comparing the two women? He reached for his cup of ale, taking a healthy gulp of it. 

He looked up just in time to see the woman crawl upon the bed. Her small hands sliding up his pant-covered legs. “I ‘eard ya need to fuck,” her voice was so innocent even if the words she spoke were crude. Jaime’s body refused to react to her. His cock stayed stubbornly soft in his breeches. “Let me make y’er feel good, Your Grace.”

“What is your name?” 

“What would ‘er like it to be?”

He smirked. Of course. She was meant to play a role. A seductress for some. An innocent maid for others. A piece of nothing for the honest men. Jaime reached out and cupped her breasts in his hand. The feel of them in his hands was different than he could remember when he had held his sister’s all those years ago. Not as large as Cersei’s, not as rounded as the Wench’s. His cock began to stir at the thought of the woman down the hall. He bet her breasts would fit nicely in his palms. Jaime pinched the prostitute’s nipples. She gave a low moan. Her body coming to rest over his manhood. 

Jaime didn’t see her though. Her raven hair was replaced by blonde. Endless blue supplanted the brown of her eyes. Her practiced moans changed to real ones that fell from fuller lips. She moved her hips in slow motions. He closed his eyes. The strings holding the crotch of his pants closed were released. Hands circled his cock, stroking it to fullness. His fantasy took hold and the hands holding his manhood felt different. He groaned as a warm mouth enclosed the shaft. His hands gripped the bedding under him. 

Images flooded his mind. The thoughts were intense making him pant and grow harder in the warm mouth around him. All were of a blonde head bobbing up and down his cock. He let out a grunt of pleasure. She sucked harder and he started thrusting his hips. Oh! He could see her now. Those eyes meeting his. That body… those legs… “Fuck!” he growled. 

Strong hands held his cock, sliding opposite of her mouth. He pumped harder and faster. His mind taking him further. He could imagine her pulling off of him, sliding on top, taking him inside… no he would push her down. He would take her. Her body under his, begging to be claimed. He would claim her. Those legs wrapped around him as he thrust hard into her willing body. “King Jaime!” 

His balls tightened and he held the girl’s head to his crotch, “Wench!” His voice was rough and spent. He fell back. His eyes opening. The raven haired woman was licking her lips.

“Was I good, Your Grace?”

Jaime suddenly felt dirty. He nodded his head. His tongue thick in his mouth. “Yes, you were.” She smiled at him and he felt even worse.

She left soon after he had paid her generously for her time. His mind was too full to sleep. He looked at the door. He would not call for a whore again. He should have known better. That had never been his way of relieving stress. Besides the one he wanted… He closed his eyes. He would have her begging soon enough.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

Brienne rolled over on her bed. The events from that afternoon still in her mind. She bit at her lip. She did not understand the fluttering in her stomach or the way her skin had tingled with awareness of him while the King was standing so close. She knew he was attractive. She had been attracted to men before- in Winterfell and when she first saw Renly…

But this was different. This should not be. She hated him. She cursed him. King Jaime was everything wrong with the world… and yet, she couldn’t deny that she felt warm when his breath caressed her skin. She turned onto her side and punched the pillow so hard feathers flew out. 

Her body was betraying her, but that did not mean she had to give in. She would never give in. Not to that horrible man. With her mind settled, she curled up and fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams she wished to never remember.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

[ ](https://imgur.com/sg0XLbL)


	3. Heavy Is the Head That Wears the Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jaime watched the sun as it crested over the horizon. His mind was brimming with thoughts he had not had in many years. Thoughts of lust and possession, of need and raging _want_. His dreams were overwhelming and rich. If he closed his eyes, he could still taste her phantom skin on his tongue. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve, Happy Hanukkah, Happy holidays to you all! I hope you are having a wonderful day/afternoon/night wherever you are. I also hope you haven't forgotten this story. I apologize for the delay in updating. I have only one excuse and that is I have too many stories. I do hope you enjoy the chapter! Thank you to everyone that read/left kudos and-or left comments. I can not tell you how much it means to me and I treasure them. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> //--\\\
> 
> Thank you to my beta: Merrymaya. She is wonderful and it's a blessing to have her edit my chapters. She takes so much time out of her day to help me and I can't thank her enough. I know I do this in every chapter, but I will continue so- sorry lol- she is a terrific writer as well and I urge you to read her stories. She has such a unique take on things and loves medieval times. I know you will find something she has written that you will love.
> 
> //--\\\
> 
> Thank you to Ro for the AMAZING poster art work. I can not express my love for it (and all the ones she has done for me) enough. They always fit the mood and the story so well and I am continuously humbled that she takes the time to make them for me. She also has incredible stories and I really would love for you to read them. Brilliant and talent... that about covers it.
> 
> //--\\\
> 
> Thank you to my test readers. (ILikeBlue, NightReaderEnigma, and River_Melody_Pond). They read the bad drafts so you don't have to. LOL Thank you all for listening to me and not wanting to smack me upside the head as my insecurities take hold. You all rock!
> 
> //--\\\

[ ](https://imgur.com/B9OzXQB)

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_   
**Chapter 3: Heavy Is the Head That Wears the Crown**   
_

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

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Jaime watched the sun as it crested over the horizon. His mind was brimming with thoughts he had not had in many years. Thoughts of lust and possession, of need and raging _want_. His dreams were overwhelming and rich. If he closed his eyes, he could still taste her phantom skin on his tongue. It was madness and made him feel on edge. The last woman to make him feel this way was long gone and had been toxic to begin with. It was humorous to think about how desperate he had been with his sweet sister. He had worshiped the ground she stood on, would have drunk poison from her lips if she had asked him to, would have gladly ripped his heart out of his chest for one moment of her time.

His unwavering devotion had been for naught. It had been the romantic notions of a boy that thought himself a man. Jaime had learned with time to be wary of such foolishness. He had learned to be harder and more aware of women’s deceptive charms. For seven years, he had locked himself in his room at night with a painting hanging over him to remind himself that a bleeding heart would eventually die. The wants of the body were nothing. Merely moments of pleasure wrapped in beguiled words and deceit. 

It was for this reason that his reaction to the wench was so distressing. Hot need should not blaze through him at the thought of her mouth wrapped around his cock. He should not desire her breasts pressed into his palms or her legs wrapped around his middle as he thrust wildly inside her. Jaime Lannister, the feared King of the Seven Kingdoms, should not want to lick the sweetness from between her thighs as she panted his name. 

That was for others! Lesser men that were shackled to baser desires. _He_ was above that. _He_ could have anyone with the snap of his fingers… so why did he want _her_? Sure, she intrigued him. How could she not? She was wild and untouchable. She was pure and honorable. The stain of blood washed from her hands easily while it covered his in a thick red glove. The lives she took in opposition of him were seen as righteous killings while his were deemed the acts of an evil man. Her blue eyes were something to behold that was true, but he could live without those sapphires blinking wantonly up at him while she was on her knees, begging for him. And her mouth… oh that wicked and taunting mouth… well, no man would turn down having their cock slide between those plump lips. 

Jaime growled low in his throat. The dreams from the night before, the ones that left his sheet wet with sweat, came back to him. He thought about her tied to the bed, her body arching up, longing for his touch. He imagined her cheeks flushing red, desire making her nipples tight and sensitive. He could see the thin material of her dress torn on his floor; some of the pieces used to bind her. He shook his head. The dreams were dark with his need to possess her, own her, claim her while she panted beneath him. He did not want to think about how much that idea caused his cock to swell to the point of pain. 

It wasn’t just the thought of conquering her that sent his blood pumping through his veins, although he could not deny that was part of it, but the thought of her surrendering to him. He wanted her to willingly bow before him. Having a woman under him against her will would never appeal to him. His chosen woman should want him as much as he wanted her. Any man who would force himself upon a woman, did not deserve to breathe. Those men were not men at all, just pieces of horse shit that needed to be dealt with quickly. Jaime might be hard and cruel, but he would never be that type of monster.

He had seen rape. He had seen the breaking of the victim’s spirit. He wanted Brienne on her knees, but he would not push her down there. He moved from the window and walked over to the closet. He chose his clothes carefully. He wanted to make an impression on the young woman situated in the room near his. A knock sounded at his door as he was pulling on his soft leather pants. He held his tunic- preparing to slide it on- and called out. “Enter.”

A young boy with messy brown hair and large brown eyes, with a doe-like appearance, stumbled through the door. His feet tripping over themselves in his haste to enter as Jaime commanded. Jaime shook his head and walked over to the young page. The boy steadied himself and looked up at the king, his lips pulled open in a large grin before he could stop it. Once he realized he was grinning, the boy shut his lips together and bowed his head, “Your Majesty.” The two words were drawn out and broken from the boy’s stuttering.

Jaime worked hard to stay stoic, but he admitted to himself that it was difficult. “Podrick,” he acknowledged. Jaime pulled the shirt over his head and tucked the ends into his pants. “What do you have for me?”

Pod rose quickly and pulled a scroll from his back pocket. The parchment was bent from being in the boy’s clothes and the edges were a bit wrinkled. Pod handed it to Jaime as if he was presenting the crown. The pride in his face was undeniable. Jaime pressed his lips together. His brother’s page was standing as tall as his short body could allow as he waited for his King’s instructions. He rolled the parchment, reading over the note with only a small amount of difficulty. He did not have to struggle much with the wording. It was always the same. 

He would only be concerned if something changed. The script was as familiar as the words. A stab of pain ripped through his chest before he smothered his feelings. It was always hard to get these notes. The impersonal messages. Formulated and short. It was how it had to be, but… Jaime rolled the parchment back up and looked at Pod. 

“Tell the guards to have the training yard prepared,” the boy stood up straighter. His spine locked as a soldier’s would in the presence of his commander. “I wish to spar, and I have a good idea of who will give me a strong fight.”

Pod nodded once and then spoke as slow as he dared to not stumble over his words, “Should I have Officer Marbrand meet you in the yard, Your Grace?”

“Not this morn,” Jaime pulled at the material of his tunic, “I have another opponent in mind.”

The young boy looked confused but wisely kept his mouth shut. He knew better than to question his king. Not that Jaime would do anything unjust to the boy. Despite what the wench thought, he did not treat his staff unfairly. The only ones that received punishment were the ones that deserved it. It did work in his favor to have people believe him despicable. It gave him an advantage. The reputation was one he had embraced, even if it had cut him to do so at the start of his reign. He did not shy away from his past deeds. There was no reason for him to cower from the glares of his enemies. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you, ser…Your Majesty?”

Jaime shook his head. “No, Podrick, that will be all.” The boy turned to leave, stopping when Jaime called out, “Do you know if our _honored_ guest has emerged from her room?”

Twin eyebrows came together as the young boy thought. “I do not believe so, Your Grace,” again his words were slow and measured. “Would you like for me to check?”

“No,” he shook his head again. “That will be all. I will check on the Lady down the hall myself.” Podrick bowed and left Jaime alone. Once the door was shut, he added, “I have a promise to keep.”

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[ ](https://imgur.com/4Mgw5L9)

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Brienne sat in the middle of her bed with her knees to her chest. Her eyes were stuck to the door and her heart jumped at every shadow that passed by. Her body was tense, more tense than ever, waiting for King Jaime to appear. She hoped fervently that his promise of picking out her outfit was a lie to keep her on edge. A tactic she had to admit was working, but she did not believe he would make a comment like that without doing it.

She bit at the edge of her right index fingernail. Her stomach felt like she was going to be sick with each breath she took. Every time she closed her eyes, she had flashes of her dreams from the night before. Her mind conjured up things she did not have any experience with. Her face flushed and she dropped her head down onto her knees. She did not want to think of her captor as she was. She did not want to think about how his breath had felt on her skin or how his eyes caressing her body had left her feeling more than a little warm.

His emerald gaze following the line of her body as she stood before him did something to her. Her heart had raced so hard she was convinced it was trying to leave her chest. It shouldn’t be this way. It was some cruel jape that she could be attracted to such a man. She hated to admit that, even to herself. Last night she had tried to talk herself out of feeling anything for him. The naïve part of her believed it would be simple to force everything down and out of the way. But her dreams had proven her otherwise. 

She had never in her life felt her core _ache_ like that. Brienne pressed her thighs together. The ache was still there. A throbbing, torturous need that she did not know how to handle. It was not like she did not know about sexual want, she just had never experienced quite like this. The few times she had been flustered by a man; the feelings had been fleeting. A quickness of her heartbeat and the heat in her cheeks… she knew that well. But this… 

This was new and terrifying. It was not based on who he was or any respect for him. Because if it was, she would feel nothing at all. The way she felt was pure want. It was a coiling emptiness inside of her, needing to be filled. The thought that wrecked her the most was how little time had passed for her to feel this way. She had spent years hating him- cursing the very ground he stood on- and in one day she had the sickening realization she desired him. 

She rose from the bed, pacing the small space between the bed and the window. She gnawed on her bottom lip and tried to stop the flood of images from assaulting her mind. She closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths. She was being ridiculous. Brienne walked over to the closet and looked through the dresses there. Her heart still sunk, knowing that she would be forced to wear one of them again. Her body was not meant for display. She had nothing worth displaying to begin with. Her left hand played with the material of a blue gown. It was a tiny bit more modest in the front, but the back was still more scandalous than she was comfortable with. 

Pulling it from the closet, she held it up. The bodice was embroidered with small starbursts and crescent moons. She swallowed. A deep wound opened in her soul. It was a mockery of her house sigil. He was so cruel that he had someone sew a reminder of her past into a dress. Angry tears welled up in her eyes. This was the feeling she needed to hold onto. The lust from her dreams was foolish. Hate, strong and fervent, that’s what she should grip tightly. It would help her stay focused. It would remind her of who he really was. 

She pushed the dress back into the closet and grabbed another dress. She wanted something she knew would clash with the red blotchiness of her skin. She wanted to assault his eyes with her grotesque appearance. Brienne found just what she was looking for in a pink gown made with lace and satin. Her eyes narrowed and she carried the garment over to the bed, placing in on the mattress none too gently. She reached for the hem of her night shift, yanking it so forcibly she heard a seam rip. Brienne was about to fling the fabric toward the ground when she heard a knock at the door, and then it opened behind her.

Her fingers clutched the shift to her meager chest as her stomach dropped and her blood ran cold. She did not dare turn around. She knew who was behind her. She felt his eyes on her bare back. The sensation made her shiver. Her knees felt weak, almost ready to give way, and her body temperature rose. The anger that fueled her moments before mingled with fear of what would happen now. The door shut with a clap that sounded extremely loud to her. She held herself as still as she could and prayed to the Seven Gods. Words repeated over and over. _Let this be a nightmare! Let me awake in the woods, frozen and alone. Save me from this fate._

“You started without me,” King Jaime commented as he moved further into the bedchamber. His boots hitting the stone floor told her exactly where he was in the room. Her body became aware of all the small changes. The shift in the air, the rise in temperature- as subtle as it was- and the sound of his breathing opposite hers. She gripped the fabric even tighter in her hands. “I told you I would pick your outfit today, wench.” Her trembling increased but she was not entirely sure if it was fear making her shake or if it was something else. “Let me look at what you have chosen for yourself.” He moved around her, his shoulder brushing hers gently. It was barely a touch, just the fabric of his tunic sliding against her bare skin. She had to slam her lips together to stop him from hearing her gasp. “Pink?” He looked at her and she hunched her shoulders, trying to hide from his probing gaze. The reality of her lack of dress coming into focus for her. She wished herself gone from this moment. She wanted to disappear from his view. Brienne did not want him to see her naked and vulnerable. Her attention stayed locked on her hands to avoid seeing his expression. “No, I do not think that will do. I see you in jewel tones.” The whisper of his voice- deep and rich, like the caramels her house cook used to make- sent another shiver through her. “Besides, you will not be wearing a dress this morn.” Her eyes widened in surprise and her mind raced with thoughts. “I have a plan for you. And you will need a very specific type of attire for it.”

“May I inquire about what your plans are for me, Your Highness?” She finally forced her gaze to him. Her breath caught momentarily in her chest. Damn him for being so beautiful. Damn him for making her body tingle. Damn him… and damn her for feeling that way. “I do not have any other items to wear but the dresses in the closets and the shifts in the drawers. Do you wish for me to wear nothing?” His eyes flashed and then darkened. Her face flushed and she turned away from him again. She wished to be able to snatch the words back, but she could not. They had been spoken in haste and thoughtlessness. The way he could make her lose herself deeply frustrated her. 

“As much as I would enjoy seeing you as you are now for the rest of the day…” She inhaled sharply. The tone of his voice was still barely a whisper but now it had an edge to it. A husky thickness that made her stomach flip. “…That will not be possible.” He moved from the bed, taking the ugly pink monstrosity with him. She let out the breath that had been stuck in her throat while he stood so close. “I have these for you this morn.” 

She spun on her heel, still holding the shift to her naked chest and looked at what he was holding. Some tension released from her body only to be replaced by confusion. Her gaze flickered between the garments in his hands and his face. There had to be a jape she was not aware of. Brienne licked her lips and opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

“Does this not please you,” he asked. He moved closer to her again. “Do you wish to wear the dress you selected so badly that you would turn down the chance to wear these?”

Again, she hovered between relief and confusion. Her mind was uncomprehending of what he was saying. “I just…” She seemed rooted in her place. Her body was stiff, and she couldn’t seem to get her thoughts to form. “I just do not understand, Your Grace.” She licked her lips and noticed his gaze drop to her tongue before meeting hers again. “You told me that I shall only wear what you have provided.”

“And I am not providing this?” He arched his left brow in challenge. “As I said, Wench, I have plans for you and this attire will make the day much more pleasant.”

_Pleasant?_ She did not believe being with him could possibly be pleasant… some of her dream flashed in her mind and she flushed as her body started tingling. What he had done to her while she slept… she had to admit had been more than _pleasant_, it had been almost too much. “I am just confused, Your Grace. But I am most relieved. Thank you.” The last two words were said almost as an afterthought. Pieces of her upbringing coming through. Manners and politeness. She moved over to him finally and took the bundle of clothes. “I will dress at once.”__

_ _He watched her inspect the clothes. The soft leather of the pants felt rich in her hands and the blue tunic was made with more care than anything she had had in years. All her clothes since running from Tarth had been worn to the point of ripping. The Starks had provided what they could, but she was one of many in the resistance. She would always be thankful for the help she received, but the North was a harsh place to live and supplies could be sparse. Brienne had never wanted to take more than she should because of her noble birth. She looked up at him and noticed his own attire matching hers. His brown leather pants were snug in places she was trying hard not to think about and seemed to mold to his body. The color of his tunic was a deep red and made his skin look even more golden. He was beautiful. Brienne could not stop that thought from entering her head each time they were together. _ _

_ _For one panicked moment, she wondered if he would stay as she dressed. Her heart went still in her chest and she clutched the shift to her breast harder. Her face flamed and she wanted to hide away. He looked at her, studying her as one of the maesters would at the Citadel. He took a step toward her and she took one back. The space between them was important to her. She needed it to think. She needed it because she would be too confused without it. _ _

_ _“Do you wonder why I would bring you these items?”_ _

_ _“I wonder about a lot of things, Your Grace,” she admitted. _ _

_ _“Such as, Wench,” he asked with a smirk that should not make her quiver inside but did._ _

_ _“Why do you continue to keep me here? I am not an important member of the resistance. I hold no power. Yet you act as if my head is worth more than a peasant’s.”_ _

_ _“You are a Lady, Wench. I have not forgotten your status.”_ _

_ _“My status was ripped from me by your actions, _Your Majesty_.” Her anger boiled again. “My father and brother were captured and killed. I do not even know where they lie for all eternity.” His posture changed from relaxed to tense. She shouldn’t notice such things, but she did. She had noticed a lot, too much to be honest, about King Jaime. She narrowed her eyes, rushing forward with her rant. “So, Your Grace, you need not keep me here. I am no longer a Lady.” She mumbled to herself, “Not that I ever truly was.”_ _

_ _He opened his mouth to answer her but stopped as someone knocked at the door. “Come in,” he called, turning away from her. Pia entered, quickly bowing to her King with a closed mouth smile. Brienne could tell the expression was genuine and she frowned. Why would this child be happy to see the man that caused her harm? She did not understand that, could not understand that. “Good day, Pia,” Jaime said with a slight curl of his lips. Brienne frowned more deeply._ _

_ _“Your Grace,” she bowed again. “Good ‘orning.”_ _

_ _“Please help our guest get ready,” the young woman nodded with another small smile. Jaime turned back to Brienne. “I will meet you in the foyer. Do not keep me waiting long.”_ _

_ _With that parting remark, he walked swiftly from the room and out the door. Brienne looked down at the outfit and shift still pressed against her and blushed crimson again. She had almost completely forgotten that she was nearly nude in front of the King. Her eyes closed and she breathed slowly to calm herself. _ _

_ _“Do ya need ‘nything, milady?” Pia asked. She opened her eyes back up and stared at the girl in front of her. _ _

_ _“Do you like the King?” Brienne asked before she could stop herself. It was a stupid question. The answer would be yes whether she did or did not. _ _

_ _She was not expecting Pia’s face to light up like the sun. “Oh yes, milady!” The girl walked toward her and pulled the shift from Brienne’s hands. “King Jaime is most kind. He ‘elped me when no one else would.”_ _

_ _Brienne had to fight to keep the disbelief from her face. She smoothed out her features even as she wanted to shake the girl. Pia could not believe this was helping her, could she? Brienne had seen violence perpetrated towards others and knew teeth did not look like Pia’s without a forceful fist being involved. _ _

_ _“He helped you?”_ _

_ _“’f ‘ourse,” she said removing the remaining clothes from Brienne’s hands. “He ‘topped some soldiers from raping me. And ‘ook care of the men that hurt me.” She looked up at Brienne, her big eyes wide and full of innocence. “He took me in and gave me a job.” She brightened again. “And now I ‘et to be yer handmaiden.”_ _

_ _“How did he stop those soldiers?”_ _

_ _Pia paused in her work of laying out the clothes. “He ‘ade sure theys would never ‘urt a woman again. I don’t rightly know what King Jaime did, but I ‘ever saw thems again. And the Mountain…”_ _

_ _“The Mountain…” Brienne prompted as she reached for the pair of pants. _ _

_ _“He ‘as put to death,” Pia’s face darkened at the mention of the feared man. Brienne had only heard stories of him. These tales had frightened her. He had been a behemoth of a man. His death had come as a surprise to the entire kingdom. Especially since it had been at the hands of the King himself. “King Jaime punished him for what he done.”_ _

_ _Brienne finished lacing her pants and grabbed the cloth from Pia’s hands that helped secure her breasts. She rarely did this. She had very little to support and men did not seem interested in looking at what she did have, but the King had… She had seen his eyes travel her body in a way she was unfamiliar with. _ _

_ _“What had he done, Pia?”_ _

_ _The girl unconsciously touched her mouth and Brienne knew what she would say before the words left her lips. “He wasn’t kind, milady. It twas my fault. I shouldn’t’ve spoke.”_ _

_ _“He was the one that hurt you?” At her nod, Brienne looked down. All this time… “And that was why King Jaime had him killed?”_ _

_ _“Not just me, Milady, he done bad things.” Pia looked sad and ashamed. “King Jaime is a good king. He helped me and didn’t look bad on me for what I had done.” She would not meet Brienne’s eyes, playing with the plain brown dress she wore. The light coming in from the window highlighted the haunted expression on her face. She seemed lost in her own mind. Far away from the opulence of the castle and back where the horrors had taken place. “King Jaime is a good king.” Her voice was soft but had an edge to it, her small hand closed into a tight fist. Brienne wondered how many times the young woman had heard all about Jaime’s evil nature. _ _

_ _Brienne finally pulled her tunic on and tucked it in. Pia’s words stayed with her long after the girl led her down to the awaiting King. She gnawed on her bottom lip, teeth tearing at the thin skin, causing it to bleed. What the young girl said… that just could not be. King Jaime was cruel. He killed family and kings. His own brother fled before he could be murdered as well. He killed her family… He would have killed her had she not gotten to the boat and sailed away._ _

_ _King Jaime was talking with a squire. His hands moving quickly as he gave his instructions. The young boy, with sandy blonde hair, nodded and bowed once Jaime was done speaking. She took the last step and walked toward him. He stood up a little straighter the closer she got. She looked into his eyes- those deep moss-colored orbs- and felt her stomach flip. If what Pia said was true… which King Jaime was the real one? The one who saved a girl who was forced to serve soldiers or the one that killed her family viciously?_ _

_ _“Are you ready for what I have planned for you, Wench?” His perfect lips pulled into a smirk and his eyes sparkled with mischief._ _

_ _Her thundering heart pounded harder in her chest. “Yes, Your Grace.”_ _

_ __ _

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

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_   
**

Seven Years Before

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_

He stood over the body. Blonde hair tinted with red. Crimson and gold. _How fitting,_ he thought with a sick feeling in his stomach. The ever-growing pool of blood from the king’s corpse was coming closer to the shine of his boots. Jaime moved out of the way. Shifting to the left, dragging his blade behind him. He stared down at him. The boy king’s features were frozen in shock. Joffrey looked almost innocent in his death. Fear and disbelief washed away the cruel sneer that often graced his lips. The body was growing cold on the floor. It would soon be the same temperature as the organ in his chest. 

The doors opened behind him. He turned toward the sound. He would not hide what he had done. He would not shy away from the deed, from his crime. He did not wipe the blood from the steel or tuck the blade away. Jaime would stay by his crime. The eyes that met his were mirrors of his own. Pain and anger, betrayal tinted with ice stared at him. Jaime straightened his spine as Cersei rushed to clutch at their son.

Joffrey’s blood colored the material of her cream dress a dark ruby. Her hair fell into the puddle on the ground as she knelt, wailing to the heavens. Jaime swallowed roughly. He moved closer. The need to comfort his sister, his lover, was too much. He hated to see her cry… he despised being the one that made her cry.

Her head snapped up, fire instead of ice, and venom dripping from her voice, “You killed him! You killed _my_ son!” 

“Cersei,” he stopped. What could he say? He held the evidence in his hand. The blade was still covered in the blood of their boy. “Let me…”

She stood quickly, flinging her body at him. Her small fists connected with his nose and lip. Fury made her stronger while his love for her made him weak. “You are a fucking bastard! I will kill you! I will have your head!” She swung harder. Blood filled his mouth as he bit his tongue. “I hate you! You fucking…” She stopped, her body slumping against him. “My boy. My precious boy!”

Something snapped inside of him. “He was not a boy,” his voice was low. She pulled away from him, shaking. “He was a monster that we made.”

Cersei backed away. She rubbed the tears from her cheeks, leaving streaks of Joffrey’s blood upon her skin. “You dare speak ill of our child? _Your_ King? The babe you slew in jealousy. I loved him more than you.” She smirked through her tears. “I took him to my breast gladly while I only took you there to make you _mine_.”

The words cut him. Partly because he _had_ been jealous of Joffrey at her breast. He had wanted to toss his son aside and take his rightful place at her chest. The boy had come between them. Joffrey had been a squirt of his seed that he never wished to take root. Cersei had willed it though and he could never deny her anything. What his sweet sister longed for; he had done everything to make it real. And he had… thrice. 

She turned her back on him and dropped to her knees in the cooling blood. Sobbing, anguished and raw, ripped from her throat. She mumbled and muttered. Words of love for the monster he had slain. Jaime felt lost watching her mourn their son, while he felt so little. He finally wiped his blade free of blood on his white cloak. He slid his blade back into the sheath and waited. He waited for the other members of the Kingsguard to take him away, he waited for the pain of losing his son to take hold, he waited… and nothing. Jaime felt no remorse. No gut-wrenching agony. Not a touch of anything but annoyance. He was angry that once again it had fallen to him to kill a king. Once again, he would brandish the title of Kingslayer. Only this time, those that hated him could add kinslayer to his list of crimes. 

_Ned will love that,_ he snarled in his head. The noble Ned, the man who held the North, had blamed him and cursed him for as long as they had known each other. It had been the Stark family patriarch who had told the world of what he had done to Aerys. He had been the first to brand him with this cursed title. He will do so again.

Cersei’s sobbing settled down to a whimper as the doors to the Throne Room opened for a second time. Jaime turned, meeting the calculating eyes of his father staring into him. His gaze as sharp as green glass. The Hand of the King shut the door behind him and walked toward his children. His presence swallowed up the air in the room, making it hard to breathe. Jaime did not fear many in this life, but his father… he knew what his father was capable of. 

Tywin looked down at the corpse, his expression never wavering. There was not a flicker of sadness or loss, only a cold mask of indifference. His lips pulled down into a deep frown. “What happened here?”

Cersei rose from the ground. Her sobs starting up again. “He killed him! He killed my son! Send him to the Black Cells! I command it!”

“Quiet,” Tywin said with a sharp tone. His sire’s eyes met his. The older man narrowed his gaze, “You killed the King.” There was nothing he could say, so he said nothing. Jaime had learned long ago that his father did not care for his children’s words. He wanted obedience and loathed anything else. Tywin turned away from him to his sister. “We will need to find someone to blame for this crime.”

“No,” Jaime responded. “I killed the King. I will not have another claim my actions as their own.”

“You act proud of killing another king. This one had shared your blood,” Tywin commented. The implications of his words were clear. Jaime was ruining the Lannister name. He was now taking the lives of kin as well. Tywin cared not about Aerys’ death nor Robert’s, but Joffrey was of Lannister descent and that made it more important. “The Kingdoms already view you dishonorably.” 

“My honor,” Jaime spat, “has been tarnished since I took the white cloak.”

Tywin glared at his son. The glass sherds of his stare cut him like a blade in hand would. “You take ownership of your crime. Will you now also claim the Throne? As you should have before.”

Cersei gasped and Jaime felt like the air had been pushed forcibly from his lungs. “Tommen is next in line!” Cersei said with anger.

“Tommen is but a child,” Tywin snarled. “A boy king is a weak king. Easy to sway and overtake. The Lannisters must appear strong. With Jaime on the throne, none will dare move against us. He is feared. He will take command.”

“How do you intend to place the crown on his head while my other son still breathes?”

Their father stood straighter. His expression turned even colder and Jaime felt a shiver run down his spine. “I place the crown on the head of the one that will lead this family to greatness. Tommen breathes now, but will he always? A soft-hearted boy cannot kill when needed, but your brother,” he looked at Jaime again and he wanted to retch at the pride he saw there. “He will do what is needed to keep the power in our hands.”

Cersei spun on him. The blood was caked in her hair, streaks of it on her face, and her dress was growing stiff. The betrayal in her gaze was deep and piercing. “King Jaime,” she smirked. “The first of his name. Took the crown from his kin’s hands and placed it on his head. Taking the rightful place of his sister once again.” Each word was meant to inflict pain. “Will you take a bitch to bed and finally produce a rightful heir? One that is not a monster produced by a golden womb?”

Jaime’s eyes flew to his father’s. His stomach dropped and his heart paused in his chest. Cersei had broken her own rule about never talking about how deep their relationship was. She spoke so viciously about how he planted his cub in her belly. He watched his father closely. Tywin’s cheeks were red from rage. A realization struck Jaime as quick as a lightning bolt. The clandestine relationship they had in darkened corners was revealed… and his father did not look shocked. He was _angry_. The secret, that he had never been ashamed of, had been spoken out loud. Cersei faced Tywin as well. Jaime could not see her expression but from the stiffness of her spine, he guessed she was staring at him in defiance. Their father had taken all from her and she was quickly becoming enraged by the unfairness. 

“You are a fool,” Tywin accused. The tone was harsh even though he never raised his voice. “Those words could ruin us _all_!”

Cersei laughed. The sound was bitter and full of wrath. “Forgive me, father.” She started to walk toward him. “I would hate to disappoint you,” she stopped once they were shoulder to shoulder, “as all the men in my life have disappointed me.”

Once she reached the door to the Throne Room, she turned back to meet his eyes. Nothing was said between them. Nothing had to be. She let him know that he had fucked up by the coldness of her stare. She pushed the doors open and left them standing by the dead body. Jaime did not apologize or rush after her. He would give her time to mourn and settle down. Then he would go to her. He would fuck her as she liked to be fucked. He would show her that he did not want the Throne, but he would take her as his Queen. Now that father knew, nothing could stop them. They could rule side by side. The way it should be.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/4Mgw5L9)

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_   
**

Present Day

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_

Jaime walked with Brienne into the training yard. His eyes shifted to her and his mind filled with images of her in just her smallclothes. Her pale back, muscled and freckled, made his mouth water with need. He realized that his dreams of her did not do her justice. He had had to fight with himself not to touch her. He wanted to run his finger along her spine. He wanted to know how smooth her skin was. The thoughts of all the ways he could have her bending and arching toward him while he took her made his cock rock hard. He swallowed and looked away from her for a moment to regain his composure.

Brienne halted and looked around once they were fully in the yard. He moved over to the side where two tourney swords were resting against a barrel of water. The arena was clear of squires and soldiers. It was only them, per his orders. He picked up the swords, turning the one in his right hand around and around. She twisted her torso to look over at him. Her confusion plain to see on her face. 

“I do not understand, Your Grace,” she said softly. It was the first time she had used that voice with him. There was a light sound to it, almost musical. He wanted to hear it more. Jaime growled low in his throat, too soft for her to hear. He looked away from her for a moment. He may want her sexually, but he will not let himself feel anything more than that. Of course, he did not worry too much. The romantic boy he had been died with his sweet sister’s betrayal. Her cheeks were flushed when he looked back up. “Why did you bring me here?”

He held out the wooden blade. She took it slowly, as if waiting to be punished if she gripped the sword. Once she had it, he walked closer. She was so focused on the object resting in her palm that she did not notice him move. Her head snapped up suddenly and she inhaled sharply at their nearness. He enjoyed the slight heat radiating from her skin and the way she bit at her bottom lip. He wanted to suck on the plump flesh while she clung to him. Jaime smirked. 

“I have heard about your talent with a sword.” He nodded toward the fake one in her hand, “I want to see for myself how good you truly are.”

“I,” she shook her head. “You do not fear me knocking you out and fleeing?”

He laughed. “That confident? My, I do hope you do not disappoint me, wench…”

“If I do,” she raised her chin in defiance, “will you put me back in chains and lock me in your room, Your Grace?”

Her cheeks turned a deep shade, almost purple, from her embarrassment. She looked away from him. Her teeth working harder on her lip. The image of her as thus entered his mind and he licked at his lips. “Do you wish to be chained in my room, wench?” His voice sounded deep even to him. His cock was so hard it was painful. “I can make that a reality.” His eyes fell to her breasts and he licked his lips. “But that was not what I had planned for you if you disappoint me.”

“What do you have planned for me?” she whispered. Her eyes returned to his and there was a touch of want in the blue depths. Jaime grinned. She felt it. The twisting, burning desire… she felt it too. He knew that must frustrate her to be attracted to him. After all she was only supposed to hate him. “What awaits me if I do not impress you, Your Majesty?”

“If you do not impress me with your skill,” he started circling her and she spun to keep eye contact. “You will tell me how you escaped from your home before my soldiers could find you.” She tensed. Her face darkening. “If you _do_ manage the epic feat of impressing your king,” he grinned, “I will grant you one freedom…”

“Anything I desire, My King?” 

She said his title with a touch of irony in response to him calling himself her King. Jaime felt a jolt of renewed want at the words. He added it to the growing list of things he would get from her. He would claim her body, he would have her willingly bound beneath him and he would have her call him _My King_ in a desperate, want filled voice. His mind flashed to her naked in her room, only this time there was not a shift between her chest and his hungry gaze. 

“You have my word, wench.”

“Is your word as strong as the steel you have at your hip?” She tilted her head, her braid coming forth to brush her broad shoulder. The talk of her home bringing forth the fire inside of her again. “Or is it as weak as a string from a spider’s web?”

That stung his ego, but also made him proud. He enjoyed her lack of refinement with him. She was quick to say what was on her mind without care when he got her angry or off-balance. Jaime made it a point to keep her that way. It made his blood rise in temperature and his heart pound with excitement. She held herself stiff as he kept the silence thick with tension. He wanted her to break first. He got his wish as she shifted nervously from one foot to another. 

Finally, he said, “I guess you will have to wait and find out, wench.”

Her shoulders rolled back, and she held her sword in her hand, ready for battle. They circled each other. His eyes moving from her footwork, to her hips, to the set of her shoulders, to her eyes. Each place gave him a picture of her fighting style. She was one to wait. Brienne would not make the first move. She eyed her opponent. He grinned. He could do that. He had fought many men in his day. Some came out swinging- expelling energy quickly. Some struck like a snake, fast and quick. Some, like the wench, waited until the other person swung. 

It was a smart play on her part. He had to admit. Suddenly she moved to her left and twisted her body to swing. Jaime blocked the blade easily, but he felt the power. She was stronger than he realized. He liked the strength she showed. He wanted her under him even more. That body, taunt and fierce, wrapping around him as he thrust inside her… He licked his lips and lunged toward her.

She twisted around again, coming closer to him. He saw her next attack before she made it. She pushed her shoulder into his chest and forced him back, but he used the momentum to knock her off course. She stumbled before righting herself again. They parried, advanced and faded, pivoted and lunged. It was a dance that felt like sex to Jaime. His blood got hotter and his body tingled. She ducked his swing and pushed her sword up to block the downward movement. Jaime spun and caught her from behind, hitting her thigh with the blunt side of the tourney sword. She growled and he nearly shivered at the sound. Brienne advanced quickly, but he moved to the right before she could make contact.

“You move well, wench,” he panted slightly out of breath, but feeling more alive than ever. She grimaced and swung again. He parried her easily. “You should not grimace before you lunge, it gives away the game.” 

She grunted and spun, punching him in the right side. He let out a breath of air from the force. Brienne pushed her hilt into his shoulder. They were pressed closely. So close he could feel some of her sweat hit his hand. Their swords locked for a moment as they continued to battle. Her lips were parted, and she was taking in great gulps of air. She went to move away, and he moved quickly. He angled his body so that they were nearly shoulder to shoulder and hooked his leg around both of her knees. She twisted toward him and squeaked in surprise reaching frantically for a way to steady herself. The sword she was holding dropped from her hands. She gripped his upper arms to stop her fall to the ground, only succeeding in pulling him on top of her. 

They landed on the hard, compacted dirt in a tangle of limbs. His arms around her shoulders broke a bit of her fall, but also pushed her flush against him. The warmth of her body made him sweat even more than he was previously. Her legs were wrapped together with his and his hips were pressed firmly into hers. He shifted slightly and her eyes widened at the feel of his manhood. His arousal grew even harder at the blush staining her cheeks. She arched up a little and she bit her lip. 

His hand slid from her back to her side, reaching out for his sword. Her eyes fluttered closed as the movement settled his hips more intimately against hers. She panted harshly, short gasps on his throat. He fought the shiver that was working its way through his body. Her hands released his shoulders and moved down his chest. Their eyes connected. Her blue eyes were deep and dark, unwanted desire burning within their depths. As for Jaime, he couldn’t help but inhale the scent of her. 

She opened her mouth, her tongue coming out to swipe at her bottom lip. He watched the movement closely. He could take her, he realized with a thrill. She would not be unreceptive. He stopped trying to get the sword and rolled his hips into hers, testing her reaction. She moaned low in her throat. Her eyes closing as she started shaking. Brienne pushed against his chest, her nails scraping his skin through the material of his shirt. 

He leaned down, putting his lips next to her ear, “Do you yield?”

She inhaled sharply and he moved to meet her eyes again. They were still filled with want, but now hatred crept in. They stared at each other. The victor and the defeated. Her hands dropped to the side and she pushed her hips into his, to dislodge him from her body. He smirked as she moaned again, pressing her lips together to stop the sound. He slid his body down hers and stood, holding out his hand to her. She looked at the offering for a moment then ignored it, standing on her own. 

Jaime moved close again, “Do you yield?” Her eyes were sharp as she nodded quickly. “Give me the words, wench!”

Her lips curled in a grimace, “I yield, Your Majesty.”

“Now you will give me my boon,” he said with a grin. “Tonight, you and I will dine in private in my solar and you will tell me what I want to know.” She swallowed roughly. “I will have Pia help you dress.”

They walked back to the castle in silence. Jaime was relaxed while Brienne was tense. Tonight, he would get what he wanted from her. He would learn how she got away and if he played the game right he might even learn about the North’s plans. After that, however, he would tell her what he wanted. Jaime would leave no doubt in her mind about what he desired. She would fight against her own desire for him, but the want he felt while pressed against her would eventually win. He was sure of it.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

[ ](https://imgur.com/4Mgw5L9)


	4. A King's Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Brienne pulled the tiny skiff ashore toward the tree line and nearly fell to her knees on the soft sand. Her body was sore, but all the aches in her muscles did not come close to those in her heart. She looked behind her, choking back a sob. All she could see of her home was raising smoke and bright flames. Her heart sank as she realized that would be the last memory she would have of her childhood dwelling._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a long time coming. I have been extremely busy with work and have unfortunately been forced to neglect my writing. I'm so sorry for the delays. I really hope the chapter itself makes up for it. I really hope you all enjoy it. Please let me know, good or bad, what you think. Each comment is like food to my overworked soul. LOL. Thank you to all that take the time to read my chapters. You all are rockstars in my world and bring a smile to my face.
> 
> =========
> 
> Big shout out to my friends that have read and discussed this chapter with me:
> 
> Merrymaya: My wonderful and patient beta, thank you for all you do. Each time you edit something I know it will be a better version than I could ever make on my way. Thank you for the hours spent talking to me about each scene and how the characters should/would interact. You are the best.
> 
> Ro: Your art work is breathtaking and I'm so thankful each time you gift me one. Thank you for all you do. You have become such an amazing friend and I count on you more than you know. Thank you again. I treasure all you have made for me.
> 
> River_Melody_Pond: Thank you for reading each painful part before it's polished and pretty. You are a true friend for doing that. It means so much to me.
> 
> ILikeBlue: Thank you for being so excited by each idea I have for this fiction. I love talking to you. You are a true friend and I'm grateful for your counsel. 
> 
> And to all you: Once again, thank you for taking the time to read, comment, and/or leave kudos. You make my day!

[ ](https://imgur.com/B9OzXQB)

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Chapter 4: A King’s Offer 

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[](https://imgur.com/4Mgw5L9)

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**Four Years Prior**

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Brienne pulled the tiny skiff ashore toward the tree line and nearly fell to her knees on the soft sand. Her body was sore, but all the aches in her muscles did not come close to those in her heart. She looked behind her, choking back a sob. All she could see of her home was raising smoke and bright flames. Her heart sank as she realized that would be the last memory she would have of her childhood dwelling. The walls built by her ancestors were rubble on the ground. Dark and twisted by the fire that broke them down. She sniffled and shook her head. She couldn’t cry now. The night was waning and she had much to do under the cover of darkness.

She straightened her back and pulled the boat even higher up the sand. The wet bottom stuck in the ground, making it even more difficult for her to move. She growled in frustration, more tears clouding her vision. She wanted to scream out but feared being heard by those that ruined her life. Settling down on the sand, she dropped her head to her raised knees and gave into a little of her agony. Tears poured from her closed eyes. She cried for her father, her brother, her home and her quiet existence. She mourned all that she had lost and cursed the one that caused it. 

All her thoughts swirled around getting back at those that took her life from her. Brienne let the hate dry her tears. She used that as fuel and lifted herself from the ground. Silently, she made a promise with herself that _he_ would meet her someday and she would make him feel the same pain she did. She looked around the tiny island where Galladon and she had played on many a time as children. The darkness made her shiver. This place was not as inviting in the night hours as it was during the day and with her big brother at her side.

In the sunlight, the beach with its tall trees had been a place to play with child-like abandon. The sandy coves had been places where they would lay on their backs and soak up the sun while seagulls flew above them. It was freedom from Septa Roelle and Maester Rydell. Everything about this island had been bright and filled with hope when he was with her to protect her. 

Now, in the darkness, where even the moon was hazed over with smoke from her home, she felt cold and fearful. Coming here had always been her father’s plan. A place where they would be safe. A place where they could hide and think about their next move. In these uncertain times, Selwyn had wanted his children to be prepared. Brienne had noticed his pale azure eyes had gotten more intense and worried as the sennights progressed. Meetings she had never been shut out of before were done behind closed doors with only Galladon privy to what was said. Few knew about this tiny rock in the Narrow Sea. It did not look like much. A small dot of land covered by trees and very little else. Seen but not remembered. Perfect for a small family of three to hole up and wait out the King’s men… 

They had each placed a bag near the hidden boat. A few items of clothing, small things of jars of vegetables, pickled and preserved. A pouch with money, enough to buy what they needed when it was safe to travel again and if need be, quick passage to Essos. Her father made Galladon and her promise to run to the boat at the first sign of trouble… only she kept her promise. Only she made it out.

She gathered the three bags from the bottom of the boat and walked into the thick brush. She didn’t want to go too far into the woods. She wasn’t scared of animals as she had been hunting since she was old enough to hold a bow, but she wanted to be able to reach the boat should a situation arose. Brienne went through the list of things her father had prepared. Secure the boat, gather fallen limbs to make shelter, dig a hole for a small fire- one that could not be seen from any passing ships… She checked them all off as she completed them. Her body was dragging by the first signs of morning. 

She crawled into her small hovel and curled into herself. She could not allow herself much sleep but she could not stay awake any longer either. Her eyes were closing on their own and it was getting harder and harder to keep them open. Her last thoughts, before exhaustion swallowed her up, was that she hoped the people of Tarth were not harmed because they were loyal to her father. Selwyn would not rest easily if the people of his island suffered because he could no longer protect them.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

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**Present Day**

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Brienne worried her bottom lip as she paced the bedchamber that doubled as her prison. She rubbed her sweaty palms against the material of her pants as she turned to walk back the way she came…again. Her mind was racing with thoughts she could not grasp. Every time she tried to grip one, a new question or concern would take its place. One thing was certain though, King Jaime had plans for her and she was not prepared for them.

She felt her stomach clench when thinking of being completely alone with him in his solar. They had shared meals together, but there had always been Kingsguard with them. Brienne got the impression that it would not be the case this night. She felt her heart skip a beat in her chest. What could he want with her?

The memory of his body pressed against hers flashed in her mind and she nearly tripped over her own feet. She did not know much about sex, but she knew what she had felt when his hips were nestled between hers. The leather pants did nothing to stop her from noticing his rigid manhood. It did not make any sense to her. She had heard of battle lust. Had seen men after fighting reach for a camp follower or take their cocks in their hands, but she had never encountered a man who had that type of reaction to her. 

She closed her eyes and shook her head. It was preposterous to think that she, the ugliest, manliest woman in all of Westeros could make the King want her. She was not built for that. She was built to fight and be a weapon. Anything else was for others. _It had to have been battle lust,_ she concluded. The heat of the moment. The pressing of bodies and the swell of emotions that came from a well-fought spar.

It was what had claimed her body, of that she was sure. It had just been a flood of adrenaline that caused her blood to sizzle in her veins. That was all. The wetness between her legs could be explained and reasoned away. The dreams that chased her and caused her body to ache- well, those could happen to anyone. The king was beautiful and his presence filled a room to the brim. He commanded armies of men with ease. That was attractive to many and she was just one of them.

Brienne of Tarth was a normal girl underneath all the grotesque and mannish features. She stopped her pacing and took a seat on the edge of the bed. Her mind eased a little with her thoughts back in order. King Jaime had been taken over by the heat of battle and so was she. The feelings that haunted her fantasies could be explained away. Nothing had tilted her world, nothing had changed. She was still a prisoner to a cruel king- even if Pia believed otherwise- and she was forced to parade around as if she was not. 

The setting sun cast the room in rich oranges and pinks, and she watched the shadows play across the ground. Her time with the king was coming closer. Soon Pia would arrive to help her dress and do something with her face and hair. She would paint her lips and run coal across her eyelids. Brienne blanched just thinking about it. Her heart galloped in her chest at images of how she would look with face paint. A jester for the court. A laugh for the king.

That’s how she would look. Jaime would use it for his amusement. She did not doubt that. She had been the joke to many before… why would _he_ be any different?

_But he has not laughed at you once,_ a small voice whispered in the back of her mind. _He has never made you feel ugly. Even when he mocked you and had you chained, he never acted like looking at you was an albatross._

Anger built inside of her. She could not believe her own thoughts! He might not have laughed at her face, but he had taken everything from her. He had lined a closet with dresses not meant for her frame. He had locked her in a gilded cage, a freak to be stared at and mocked whenever the King let her be shown to his subjects. She could not falter and lose sight of the truth. 

There was a knock at her door and she stood as the guards let three male servants in while they carried a large wooden tub. The young men, who could not have been much older than herself, placed the round bath in the middle of the room. They left without saying a word, only to return moments later with several steaming buckets of water. Pia entered the room while they filled the tub and smiled at her, careful not to show her teeth. 

“Thank you,” she called out. Her manners once again coming forth. Her father had taught her early in life that all deserved respect, no matter the station. _One cannot lead without followers and those that follow cannot trust a ruler that is not just._ His words had stayed with her and she never wanted to lose his wisdom.

The men left again once their task was complete. None said a word. None tried to make eye contact with her. They merely worked and left, only bowing to her as a sign of respect. Her eyebrows came together at the display.

“They don’t speak,” Pia said without prompting. She grabbed a small vial from her plain brown dress and dropped some oil into the water. The room filled with the scent of honey and lilies. “Come, milady, ‘et’s git ya ready fer the King!”

Brienne stood from the bed and looked at the young woman. Her question sprang from her lips before she could fully think it through, “Why are they silent, Pia? Why do they not speak?”

Her big brown eyes widened and she played with the material of her dress. “They don’t speak,” she said again. “The King has told thems not to. Theys have learned what could happen.” She went back to preparing the bath, gathering items and leaving Brienne to strip.

“Why?” Brienne stopped undressing. Her eyes narrowing. “Why would he not want them to speak to me? I am a prisoner here. I hold no power.”

“Ya’s a guest,” Pia replied. “The King has said so. Ya’s are his guest. He makes sure ya are safe.”

Brienne stood still at the word “safe”. What dangers could possibly happen to her if not by the King’s own hand? She was the one who opposed him. No one else cared to find her or lock her up. If she died, it would be because of _him_. She moved to sit back on the bed, her stomach tightening painfully. Pia was too blind to see the King as he really was. She was young and had been hurt by others. Brienne should have been smarter and not so easily swayed. 

Of course, the King would use fear to control! It was like a donning light cast all the darkness away. Brienne had almost believed he might have a good side, but no, he was as he seemed. She almost let a naïve child cloud her mind with falsehoods. She was ashamed of herself. Had she not seen what the King could do to another? Sansa Stark’s face appeared in her mind and she grew cold. Yes, she had seen first-hand how cruel this king could be. Both in her own life and in the lives of others.

She crossed her arms over her chest and jutted out her chin. “You can leave, Pia.” The young girl paused and turned to face her. “I will not be dining with the King. If he wishes to know why, he can send his guards to take me to the Black Cells and pry the words from my lips.”

Pia’s face fell. Her large eyes expressed her discomfort. “Please, milady, King Jaime wishes to dine wit ya. He has asked me to make ya purty. Why would ya not want to go?”

Conflict warred inside her. She had once again almost forgotten something important. It was not just her life she was playing with, it was Pia’s as well. She gnawed on her bottom lip until it bled. She would have to go. She could not risk the young servant getting punished for her defiance. Brienne stood and pulled her clothes from her body. She flushed as Pia watched her. She had never been comfortable with others seeing her so exposed, even though it had been common back on Tarth. Servants had often seen her without clothes and she had always been extremely aware of the looks she received. 

She looked up at Pia through her pale eyelashes and noticed the girl’s eyes become wider. Her flushing got more intense. Pia, with her wild brown locks and missing teeth, was still a pretty girl. She had a small heart-shaped face and a slender body. Dressed and pampered as a noble, she would be lusted over in a way Brienne never had been. Her monstrous form must be horrifying to see. She covered herself with her arms. She climbed in the tub and sank as far down as she could, averting her eyes from the other woman.

“May I ask, milady,” Pia handed her a chunk of honey soap. “Where did ya get all those scars?”

Brienne looked down at her legs and stomach. Bruises from the soldiers were fading into a hazy bluish purple and both the fine white lines as well as garish pink marks, remained. Each one told a tale about different parts of her journey. Each one was given to her by both friend and foe. Some came from training with Robb and Jon. Swords clanging together, wounds breaking skin, blood spilt over combat. Some came from soldiers with death in their eyes and her head in their sights. Some had healed easily, with maesters aiding in her recovery. Some had healed roughly, with only her shaky hands to hold the skin together. The story of her rebellion was written across her skin and hidden under her clothes. 

She turned her head and met Pia’s eyes, “I got them from surviving while others wished me dead.” She paused and then continued. “Like your King.”

Brienne faced the bed again. Her mood soured anew. This night would be horrible and she wished he would just kill her. At least then, she could find peace.

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[](https://imgur.com/4Mgw5L9)

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**   
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** _Seven Years Prior_  
**

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Jaime stared at his reflection in the looking glass. He grimaced at the image. He looked every bit the king with his golden hair curling against his face and shoulders. His skin smooth and aristocratic. His noble birth showing over his years of service. He turned from the mirror, his lips pulling in a frown. This was not what he had wanted. He had wanted to be a knight, not a king. He yanked on the material of his burnt-red leather jerkin. He glanced briefly down at the sigil stitched into the leather. His house. The roaring lion, golden and proud.

His father’s dream of a dynasty was about to take over the kingdom. A Lannister would rule and Tywin would pull the strings. He could do as he wished for all Jaime cared. His only concern was for Cersei. It had been four moons since he slew Joffrey and she still spat in his direction. She would not let him touch her and he was getting restless. 

He knew it would take time for her to mourn her firstborn, but she shall be his _Queen_. They could lay side by side and take what should be theirs. Their children will be crowned, not as bastards, but as legitimate heirs. Their daughter will be coveted as a princess. Their son will sit upon the Throne after him. Their future children will be revered. Golden children of the Lannister lions. It was how it was meant to be. Tywin will get his dynasty and they would be as they were supposed to be, married and lovers until the end of time.

The door behind him opened and he turned to see who would enter without invitation. Tyrion stood in the doorframe, his mismatched eyes narrowing at the sight of Jaime. “Dear brother,” the dwarf walked further in and shut the door behind him. “It is the day. A golden crown will be placed upon your golden head.” He climbed up on a chair and reached for the decanter of wine a servant had placed there early. He filled the goblet up and leaned back. “What will your first act as ruler be?”

Jaime walked over and sat across from him. “It will be to find a Queen.”

“_A Queen_?” He sipped the wine as he watched Jaime carefully. “You act as if you do not have one in mind. Come now, we both know who you wish to sit beside you. Father will never allow it, but that has never stopped you from continuing to dream it true.”

“He knew,” Jaime said finally reaching for the wine and filling his own glass. “He knew about it all.”

“Aye,” the younger of the two nodded. “The worse kept secret in all of King’s Landing. The twins who met under the cover of night and in darkened alcoves to fuck. No one was completely unaware of your deeds… except for maybe Robert. But he was busy with his own deeds himself.”

“He never deserved her,” Jaime hissed.

Tyrion raised his eyebrow at Jaime in question. “Didn’t he? One cheater lying to another. Cersei was never clean.” He took another sip of his wine before placing the goblet on the table. “You had taken her maidenhead long before she donned the wedding gown and stood in the Sept.”

“Careful,” he snapped at his brother. “The Red Keep has eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Do you now care?” Tyrion tilted his head. “Moments before you were dreaming of a wedding night with your mirror image and now you are quick to quell the truth. Jaime,” he leaned forward. “The Targaryens spent generations wedding and bedding each other and look at how those Kings and Queens turned out.” 

“We are not the Targaryens,” he stood up in a rage. “We are not as mad as them.”

“The coin flip,” Jaime turned to face his brother. Tyrion was calm in the face of his wrath. “Would you not say that Joffrey fell to the wrong side?” He jumped down from the chair and stood in front of Jaime. “Your son, born of incest and deceit, to which side did the coin flip?”

Jaime’s stomach dropped and his eyes moved swiftly away from Tyrion. “He was always lost. More Robert’s than mine. Cersei tried to protect him from…”

“From whom,” Tyrion snapped, clearly annoyed. “Robert’s seed did not take root in our sweet sister. His blood did not run through his veins. You cannot hide from this brother. What he was, Cersei and you made. You cannot deny the lions’ blood that ran through his veins. Will you pretend that you did not spill it on the floor?” Jaime flinched. “Why must you be blind, dear brother? Do you not see the poison dripping from your union?”

“Myrcella and Tommen are pure,” he whispered. “They are not of the same ilk as Joffrey and they were spurts of my seed as well.”

“A coin flip,” Tyrion said again. “The fates decide.”

Jaime licked his lips. “Cersei and I are two parts of one soul, brother. You would not understand the depth of that feeling. We entered this world as together, we are meant to be and die together.”

“Anything for love,” Tyrion mocked. “Those words are wind. Are they your words or hers?” He opened his mouth but his younger brother continued. “I wonder if she says something similar to all her lovers or if you are the only one that needed convincing to push your cock into her cunt.”

“There are no others,” Jaime snarled. “You’re showing the truth in your lies, dear brother. She would never take another to bed. Only Robert and I have laid between her legs. I know her. I know she loves me and my cock.” He smirked, all confident in the power of his love. “She does not need flowery phrases or promises of eternal love, because I _know_ the core of her. Cersei and I have always been and will always be.”

Tyrion laughed. “Oh, your romantic heart, Jaime!” He held his stomach and doubled over, his disfigured face growing redder with each guffaw. Jaime glared at his brother, his right hand clenching and releasing at his side. Once his laughter was under control, Tyrion grabbed his goblet and took a sip to wet his throat. The younger man turned his mismatched eyes to the moss-green ones. “Did you not wonder why she has not come to warm your bed?”

“She is still hurt and angry over Joffrey,” Jaime defended. “Do not act as if she has taken another while I wait for her. That is cruel…” He snarled, “Father would be proud.”

“Not of me,” Tyrion responded sardonically and Jaime momentarily felt guilt over his words. Tyrion was right. Tywin would not be proud of his youngest son, he would always find fault with him. “And I have not said one falsehood, Jaime. All one has to do is open their eyes to see the truth.” He held his gaze and his face turned serious. “Or you can remain the only one that truly _does not_ know the core of who Cersei is.”

“Stop it, Tyrion,” Jaime snapped finally having enough. “You and Cersei have always been on opposite sides. I love you both. Do not make me choose.”

Tyrion turned sad and his face fell. “If I did, I know who you would always reach for.” He placed his goblet back on the table. “I wish you well today, dear brother.” He turned to go and Jaime felt his insides roll with the knowledge that he had hurt his brother. The day their mother died, Jaime had made a promise to protect the youngest member of the Lannister family, no matter the cost. He looked at the stone between his feet. He guessed there was a cost too high for him to pay after all. “I hope you never learn the truth.” He looked up at Tyrion as the dwarf stood at the door. “I fear what may happen if you are faced with everything you wish not to see.” He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “I will see you at the coronation.”

He left Jaime standing in the King’s quarters with a heavy heart. He went back to the looking glass and found even more fault in his appearance. How will he fare as a King when he could so easily hurt his brother without even trying? _You were trying,_ a quiet voice said. _You were angry over his words and lashed out. Spearing his heart with a blade coated with venom. All for her._ Always for her. He would do anything she wished. _Had_ done anything she wished. He turned from the glass and closed his eyes. Jaime ran a hand through his hair and growled low under his breath. 

A knock at the door made him inhale deeply. He wished it was Tyrion so he could make things right, but he knew his brother was done with him for the moment. He would only see the dwarf again when the crown was placed on his head. He walked to the door and pulled on the metal latch. A green boy, not more than six, stood with his back as straight as could be. He was shaking so bad his mop of brown hair was falling into his doe-like brown eyes. Jaime leaned back and let the child in. 

“Your Majesty,” the boy stuttered. “I have a letter from the Que…” he stopped, his eyebrows coming together. “Your sister, Queen Cersei.” The stuttering made his words sound jarring and halted. He held out the parchment in his small hand and waited for Jaime to take it.

“I am not the King yet,” he muttered softly. “You do not have to address me as such until the coronation is complete.” He started to break the red wax seal with the roaring lion when he paused. “What is your name?”

“Podrick Payne,” he responded in the same broken way as before. Jaime finally realized it was not nerves causing him to stutter but a tongue that would not work properly. The child bowed his head and kept his eyes lowered. “I am sorry for my… speaking, Ser.”

Jaime continued to break the seal and shrugged. “It is but a minor thing, boy. One you may learn to live with or grow away from.” He unfolded the parchment and felt his blood heat. The chiming bells of the Sept tower made him aware of the time. He folded the parchment and slid it into the back of his pants between his waistband and tunic. “Are you a page or squire to anyone?”

“No,” the young boy looked up at him hopefully. “I am living with me cousin. Are you in need of a squire?”

“I am not as of now,” he said. “But I believe my brother will be requiring some help. I have plans and I will need him to be at my side. He is too clever by half to be anywhere else. After the coronation, I will bring you to him.”

He saw his father come to his door and knew it was time. He walked with Pod following closely behind. Tywin barely glanced at the young boy. His pale green eyes locked on Jaime’s. “It is time,” he said with a satisfied smile. “Our family will begin its reign with you. A Lannister Lion on the throne as it should be.”

Jaime did not say anything. He just nodded his head and reached for the crimson cloak. As they passed the Queen’s quarters, Jaime’s blood temperature rose. He would return to this hallway after he was crowned and he would claim his queen. She would not be coming to the coronation. Her letter had made clear that she would not sit in the Sept where she had just mourned her son, but later… she would be waiting for him. A surprise behind her chamber door…

_ Dear brother, do not keep me waiting long. I have longed for you. These moons away from you bed have left me weak with need. Once you can, run…run to me. I will be waiting with a surprise. One you will not forgot. One you deserve. This gift has been earned, dear brother. You are all I have thought about. I want pay you back for all that you have given me._

The walk to the Sept was more informative than Jaime thought it would be. Peasants lined the streets away from the Lords that waited near the Sept for his entrance. Women watched him with pass with expressions of desire and inviting smiles. The display was amusing to him. He would never choose one of them to lay next to him, peasant or Lady. Even if Cersei did not exist, he would find these women plain and ridiculous. He needed someone to challenge him and make him want. He needed someone with fire and a mind that was as sharp as their tongue. 

The women that lined the streets were empty of spirit and strength. They saw the Lannister gold, the possibility of wearing a crown and ruling, the servants and people falling at their delicate feet… the one thing they did not see was him. Those painted and perfumed women did not know him and did not care to. He was a means to the top of the social ladder. He could see the salivating looks as he rode past them. They may not turn him away from their bed, but they would never love him.

Those females would trade sex for a position in society. A different type of hand shake, a deal formed and sealed between the sheets. Jaime found it detestable. Fucking as a way into a better way of life left him cold. He had only ever wanted one woman, had only ever _seen_ one woman in his dreams. Sex had never been impersonal for him, an act of bodies slamming together, it had always been about him being with the woman he loved. Tyrion was not wrong. He did have a romantic heart. Under all the cruelty and violence, he only wished for a life with the one he loved. His heart’s desire was simple really: he wished to die in the arms of his beloved. 

Westeros could have all his riches. He could die a beggar and be happy as long as the one he loved was by his side. Jaime was not foolish, however; he knew Cersei would never abide living in squalor. She was built for riches and opulence. She was made for silks and sweet rose perfumes. She was the golden Queen, long before she wore a crown. Her hands were made smooth with slender bones, callous had no place on her palms. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a family that looked different than the others that surrounded them. A tall, broad, pale blonde man standing next to a younger man with similar features. Each was stoic in appearance and watched the proceedings with little emotion. Green eyes met the cerulean ones of the older man and he nodded his head in the noble’s direction. The response was almost nonexistent, barely a flicker of acknowledgement. He studied the man more closely, as he was taught to by Arthur. Jaime did not place the man’s face, but he believed they had met before. _Perhaps on the battlefield during Robert’s Rebellion? The man looked strong enough to swing a sword and level an enemy._ The man at his right was as tall as his father. He had a broad face and the same pale blonde hair. Everything was the same, except for the eyes. The boy did not inherit his father’s azure orbs but instead laid claim to hazel. 

The young man met his gaze briefly before being distracted and disappearing into the crowd of onlookers. Jaime’s thoughts about the noble family vanished as he climbed the steps of the Sept. The Septon would be waiting for him inside and he hoped the ceremony would not take long. He did not want to keep Cersei waiting.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

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_   
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_ **Present day** _

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He tapped the worn letter against the stone’s edge of the fireplace and stared hard into the flames. The nights were growing chillier now that the last days of autumn were upon them. Jaime watched the fire dance upon the logs, swinging and swaying with each gentle breeze that stirred them. He ran his finger absentmindedly over the broken red wax of the seal. He traced the dips and the raised edges that once made up a roaring lion. The parchment in his hand was yellowed with age and some parts of the paper were torn.

The black ink bled into words that were ones he knew by heart. He could recite them and had done so many times over in his dreams- nay- in his nightmares. He pulled his eyes from the fireplace and looked at the relic of his past. Rage built within him again. He read the words quickly, smirking at how he had once thought them true. Cersei had always known which strings to pull and how hard to yank to get him on his knees.

She had known him much better than he had known her. Tyrion’s words from a lifetime ago rang in his mind. _ All one has to do is open their eyes to see the truth. Or you can remain the only one that truly _does not_ know the core of who Cersei is._ He had been the only one. Rumors and whispers were ignored by him because he knew better. She was _his_.

Jaime smirked at his own childishness. How stupid he had been. He would never be that blind again. He turned away from the flames and opened the drawer on the right side of his desk, shoving the letter inside. He shut the drawer and used a small skeleton key to lock it tight. A knock sounded at his solar door. “Come in,” he called. Three servants came in, carrying the items he asked for. He pointed at a small round table in the corner, “Set it up there.” 

The servants nodded and went to work, preparing the room for his dinner with Brienne. He observed them as they placed the plates on the table and arranged the goblets. Each item had been carefully selected by him for this night. The meal would be reminiscent of Brienne’s home, white fish soup with crusty bread and boiled vegetables on the side. Jaime had learned that Brienne did not respond well to extravagance. She had made it clear that she did not appreciate feasts while others went without. Jaime enjoyed indulging, as he did not do it much or with many things. Being forced to interact with many that never looked beyond their own status, he knew that Brienne’s view was not a popular one among the elite.

Plus, he was planning on asking her a very important question- or rather proposing a deal- it would not do to have her too agitated from the start. The young men, pages Jaime knew by face and only vaguely by name, finished arranging the table as he wished. Each waited for more instruction as Jaime walked around to inspect their work. He knew it was done well, the servants knew better than to mess up when he gave very specific instructions. 

The silver of the utensils shined in the gentle candle light, the plates and bowls gleamed in pristine cleanliness, and the napkins were folded by the plates just so- crisp points and perfect placement. Jaime pursed his lips and looked at each of the boys. “Good,” they let out the breaths they had been holding in. “I will be expecting my guest when the bells chime six, bring the food when they chime seven. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” they said in unison, bowing as they did. 

“Leave me,” he commanded. 

Once again they bowed and left him to do their other chores. He walked back to the desk and sat behind the grand wooden structure. His mind was filled with what could happen and what he wanted to happen. All possibilities were making him hard with anticipation. He licked his lips and smiled to himself. He closed his eyes and recalled her strong, naked back. The rippling of her muscles under that freckled, pale skin… he had done well not to reach for her then. 

He deserved an accommodation for not claiming her in the practice yard. He had felt the shift in her. The moment when the heat of battle became more. The way her breathing had changed when he rolled his hardness into her core. The smell of her arousal had been faint, but he had felt it nonetheless. Dark honey on the wind. He could not wait to dive between those thick thighs and taste the nectar her body made.

The only dark cloud in his perfect sexual dream was the thought of another tasting her first. He could not shake the notion that some other man had pushed his cock into that dripping core before him. It was like a thorn in his side that would not let him go. He knew better than any what camp life was like. How loneliness made people reach for the next warm body. Whores made good coin entering the encampments after battles. A soldier who was desperate for connection and release will always find a willing partner. 

_Who was your willing partner, wench?_ he thought while narrowing his eyes. _One of the Starks’ men? Possibly a faceless cock in a pub? A drunken fool too inebriated to really pleasure you? Maybe you have had more than one._

He stood quickly, pacing the length of the floor. Images flooded his mind of Brienne flushed and panting, reaching for a man as he pounded into her. Fire ignited his blood. He would learn all her secrets soon enough. Jaime would push her previous lovers out of her mind until only he remained. He would conquer her. He would claim that large, impressive woman as his own. He would fuck her and push her to the brink of sexual madness. Jaime knew he could. The proof had been laid before him. Brienne could not hide her attraction to him. 

The desire coursed through her veins in the same way it did in his. It had been so long since he felt that _raw_ need. The clawing at his gut and the hardening of his body… yes, this woman called to a long-dead part of him and he wanted to answer. Seven years his cock had laid dormant. Cersei had thought that she had cursed him to remain alone, never wanting to fuck another. He grinned a sadistic smile. How wrong his sweet sister had been. 

Jaime Lannister will fuck again. He will fuck a woman that Cersei would be repulsed by. He will fuck her hard on the mattress in the King’s quarters and against any flat surface he could find. He poured himself a cup of wine from the pitcher on the table and toasted his sister. He hoped she will enjoy the show from the Seven Hells.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/4Mgw5L9)

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Brienne moved slowly behind the guards, causing the ones behind _her_ to almost bump into her back multiple times. She was not looking forward to her meeting with the King. She was dreading the moment he would sit across from her and start asking about her escape. She wanted to stay as silent as a mute but knew that was never going to happen. King Jaime had already learned her tells and knew where to needle her for the best reaction. She got the feeling he liked watching her squirm. It amused him and that angered her even more.

The group, with Brienne in the middle, turned down an unfamiliar hallway that led to a winding staircase. She tilted her head up to look. The stairs up to the solar were narrow and uneven, some of the stones were chipped and cracked. She looked down at the dress that Pia had told her the King requested she wear and she grimaced. The flowing blue fabric was long, brushing the tops of her silk, flat shoes. She never walked as confidently in dresses as she did in pants and the cloak she had wrapped around her shoulders to cover her open back did not help. The bottom of her gown caught on her feet as she moved. It was awkward and she felt even more humiliated. 

One of the Kingsguard nudged her to start walking and she turned around, glaring at him. His face was impassive, unimpressed by her glower. She faced forward and climbed the steps, wobbling slightly as she moved. The midnight blue silk and linen slipped under her foot as she had feared it would and she nearly fell back. The large steady hand of a blond-haired man steadied her.

“Easy, My Lady,” he said, his voice jovial. “It would not do to die before dining with the King.”

She looked over her shoulder and noticed his features. He was shorter than her by a quarter of a head, his eyes were a lively hazel, his nose was puggish and his chin was large. He smiled slightly at her and she nodded to him. From his demeanor she could tell he was different. He was not as hard as the others. Most did not talk to her and really, if she were being honest, she did not talk to them. They were separate. She a prisoner of the Crown and them the loyal guards. Brienne knew that each would cut her down if she stepped a toe out of place. Even the one that smiled at her. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. 

The rest of the climb up the winding staircase was uneventful and before long she was at the King’s door. Her stomach tightened painfully and she felt like she was going to vomit. Her skin tingled with nervous energy. She wanted to push the men back and run away. Dining with King Jaime in the Great Hall was one thing, it was a large space and did not feel so intimate. This was something else entirely. This was about two people behind a closed door, an unmarried man and woman with no relationship between them, sharing a meal. 

If she were anyone else, she would believe this an act of romance. But King Jaime was not some smitten young man that nervously awaits to hold her hand or for the gift of a lock of her hair. He was not dreaming of her huge lips pressed chastely to his cheek. The man just behind the door was not hoping for her to smile in his direction and grant him a favor.

No, the King was awaiting the moment she would slip up and spill her secrets. He was trapping her in another cage, only this one would be with him inside. A lion playing with his food, searching for the right second to pounce and devour her. She would have to use all her training to hold herself still in the shadows of his swatting paws and be mindful of the sharp claws. 

One of the Kingsguard knocked twice on the door as the bells outside chimed six. A muffled voice called out from the other side, “Come in!”

The white cloak opened the door for her. She peered into the room. It was dark with only the waning sunlight and sparse candlelight scattered throughout. She took a deep breath and walked into the solar, leaving the Kingsguards behind. She tried to swallow her gasp as the door closed tightly behind her. Her heart began thundering in her chest at the sight of him before her. He really was a predator. He licked his lips as his eyes traveled down her body. She tried to hide the shiver at the feeling of his gaze on her. She knew she didn’t hide it well enough by the smirk that curled his lips. 

She crossed her arms over her chest, embarrassed to feel that her nipples were tight and slightly sensitive. Brienne flushed hotly and turned away from him. She folded as much of her body into the cloak as she could. Her eyes caught sight of a gleaming sword above the mantle. The thick metal blade shone brightly with touches of red tempered throughout. She got lost in her observations of the blade. The hilt was covered with red leather and the pommel was in the shape of a lion’s head, its chin raised and looking majestic. 

“Brightroar,” he said from behind her. She gasped at how close he was. His breath was hot against her exposed neck where the sloppy bun was. “It had been lost to my family, but I had it found.”

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice slightly higher with nerves. “The sword looks like it was made with care.”

“Not many appreciate the craftsmanship of a sword,” she closed her eyes as his words continued to caress her skin. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought about reaching for the blade and killing him where he stood, but she stood still instead. Her arms were glued to her chest and she was acutely aware of close proximity of his body to hers. “The smith,” he said as he moved a little to her right, his chest almost against her back, “took many sennights tempering the steal just right. The story goes that many failed blades were discarded before this one was finished and presented to my great, great, great grandfather, King Lancel.”

“It’s Valyrian?” She spun around and almost slammed into him. He caught her as she took a step back and nearly fell into the open fireplace, tripping on her skirts. Her hands came up to his chest, palms pressing into the soft material of his brown leather jerkin. His left arm wrapped around her back, forcing the bottom half of her body to conform to his. Her heart stopped. The hardness of his erection was trapped between them again. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she stuttered. 

“Careful, wench,” Jaime whispered against her cheek. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” She swallowed. “We have much to discuss.” She pulled her eyes from his with difficulty. “To answer your question, yes. It’s Valyrian.” She could barely hear his words over the rushing of her blood. He was too close. Much too close. She was losing her mind in his proximity. “Are you sick, wench?”

“Wha-what?” she stuttered.

“You are very flushed.” He touched her cheek and she inhaled sharply. “Warm too.”

Hot. She was hot. Sweating and needy. “The fire,” Brienne said shakily. “Too close to the flame.”

“Hmm,” he nodded but didn’t look convinced. “Then let us take a step back from that blaze.”

She expected him to let her go, to release her so she could walk on her own, but he didn’t. If anything he held her more tightly. Her fingers curled naturally into the material of his clothes as they moved. Brienne had never been so close to a man before- at least not without a weapon between them. He smirked at her. His emerald eyes glinting in the small amount of light. Gems twinkling prettily at her. 

“Better?” he asked. She nodded, her tongue thick in her mouth. “Use your words, wench,” he commanded in a voice that was meant for the battlefield. 

She pressed her legs and lips together. There was something about that tone while his arms were around her that made her core weep with her essence. Brienne frowned, confused by her own reaction. “Yes, Your Grace.” She heard the way her voice shook and saw those moss green orbs darken as he recognized the change as well. “Thank you.”

He slowly slid his hands from around her, his fingertips grazed her sides. Time seemed to be suspended between them. She could not tell how long they stayed so close, just breathing each other’s air, but she knew it was much longer than what was considered customary. King Jaime was casting a spell around her that she could not understand and that made her uncomfortable. This was a man she had loathed for years and had dreamt of killing. Yet, in the faded light and the soft candles, she did not feel hatred. 

Jaime moved fully away from her and she finally exhaled easily. His green eyes were still on hers. There was something dark hidden in the depths, something that pulled at her insides and made her even wetter. Brienne looked down at the floor, wringing her hands together. She could _not_ feel lust for him. It was wrong. Her body was betraying her, longing for a man most foul. 

“While, we wait for our meal,” she looked up at him again. The dark pools of desire made her breath catch. “Why don’t you pay your debt to me…”

“My debt…” she repeated. Her mind still dull and confused.

He smirked at her again, “I did win our sparring match.” She nodded. “I believe I was quite clear on what I want from you.” Brienne nodded again, looking away momentarily. He walked back over to her and lifted his hands toward her neck. She flinched, in fear of him touching her or hurting her, she wasn’t sure. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shook his head. “I will not harm you, wench… not unless you deserve to be punished.”

That tone again. She shivered. He reached for the clasp of her cloak, his long fingers sliding between her skin and the metal, working to release it. The action felt so personal, him removing a piece of her clothing that she backed away before he could finish his task. “Thank you again, Your Grace, but I do not want to trouble you with such a menial task as taking off my cloak.” 

Brienne spun around and with clumsy fingers pulled the material from her body. The hot air caressed the skin of her back as soon as the garment was off. She folded the cloak over her arm and turned back to the King. He was staring at her. Hard. Intently. She felt consumed by his presence. He stepped forward, covering the short distance between them quickly. He took the folded material and placed it haphazardly on the side of a large chair. She glanced down and flushed. His cock could be seen straining in his breeches. Her blood rushed. Brienne could not deny it now. This was not battle lust. Whatever was happening between them was dangerous. It bubbled and popped like a witch’s brew, growing hotter and hotter.

The bells chiming seven snapped some of the tension and a knock came soon after. She closed her eyes as Jaime moved away from her and toward the door. He opened it up, letting the servants come in with dinner. She smelled the food immediately and felt her stomach give. The scent of her home curled around her, causing her to gasp softly. He met her eyes and that smirk reappeared on his face. The women and men worked quickly, placing the fish stew in the middle of the table with freshly baked bread next to it. A medium sized silver pot with boiled vegetables was the last to be placed on the table.

She eyed the meal hungrily. Home. It was the same fare she would eat on her tiny island in the Narrow Sea. Why would he do that? First the dress and now the supper. She was caught between being thankful for the meager meal and being saddened by it. The door shut once more, leaving them alone again. She stayed still, unsure of what to do. He walked toward the table and pulled out a chair. “Come, wench,” he gestured for her to sit. “Let us eat.”

Brienne hesitated a moment. Her mind not understanding his motivations. Why would he do such a gentlemanly thing as pull her chair out? It confused her and left her unbalanced. She moved in jerky motions toward the chair and sat, ready to pull it toward the table on her own. He pushed it gently before she could. He leaned forward, his lips close to her ear. “I do hope you like what has been prepared.”

His fingertips brushed the bareness of her back, light touches that sent her mind reeling and her blood pumping harder. Once again, her tongue felt too large for her mouth and words stuck in her throat. To cover her lack of grace, she reached for her napkin and placed it on her lap. The knots in her tongue loosened as he moved over to his side and sat across from her. “I am sure it will be wonderful, Your Grace.”

He poured some wine into his goblet and twisted his wrist to swirl the Dornish red in the glass. “So, wench,” he smiled sharply. “Do not keep your King waiting any longer, how did you manage to escape and evade me for so long?”

She ladled the soup into her bowl for something to do so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I rowed myself away.” 

Silence. She placed the ladle back into the large pot and reached for her spoon. She was not sure how the stew would taste on her tongue. Brienne was both longing for the meal and scared she would vomit as soon as the chunks of fish landed in her stomach. Jaime cleared his throat and she finally looked up again. His eyes were observant and even greener. His face was blank, but she knew he was unhappy with her answer from the slight twitch to the corner of his mouth. 

“There must be more to the tale. Three years is quite a long time to be on one’s own without money or backing from anyone.” He leaned forward. “Do not make the mistake of thinking I cannot see when you lie. As I have said, wench, you are not practiced in the art. I have fended off people who were much better at it than you.”

She saw a flash of anger in his eyes before he hid it away. Despite herself, she was intrigued by the slip. What was the King hiding? Could it help her in her task? Was the opening in his armor large enough for her sword to slip through? She used her spoon to stir her soup as the thoughts filtered through her mind. Maybe the King had a weakness that she could use. She needed to pay closer attention and not be distracted by frivolous things such as lust and want.

She brought the spoon up to her lips and slowly slurped the broth before saying, “My Island was close to another. I rowed there when I heard the soldiers, _your_ soldiers, enter. They did not see me in the chaos. Plus, it was night and fires were being lit all through the castle.” Her face hardened. “As my life went up in smoke, I made it to safety… unlike my brother or my father.”

“They had gone against the Crown,” he said calmly. She bristled at the tone, rage boiling her blood. “Any king with a working mind would have done the same. I could not have a noble do such things without punishment.”

“You killed them,” she accused harshly.

His eyes flashed again. Green flames licking at his thick black lashes. “I did as I had to.” He served himself some soup as well. “Just as you did.” She jerked at those words. Jaime leaned forward and eyed her. “Did you not think of the soldier’s families when you took their lives to survive? The wives that are raising babes alone? The mothers that mourn their boys? The fathers that must carry on without their sons? The children that will never know their fathers?” She flinched. She had not, not really. She was so focused on her mission. Of course, she did not enjoy killing but she had not thought about the others- the families whose faces she did not see. He leaned back and nodded. “War is never easy. Your father and brother knew what they were doing and what could happen. Just as those soldiers did. Do not be so quick to absolve yourself of your own crimes when they are just as damaging.” 

Shame filled her. Yes, she had killed. She had the same blood on her hands as he did. “You are right, Your Grace,” she whispered. “I have spilled blood to live and I have made choices I hope I will never have to again. But we are not the same.” Her voice firmed up in conviction. Her actions were not as damaging as his were…right? A faint amount of doubt started building in her mind, but she smoothed out her features so he would not see how shaken she was.

“No, wench, we are not,” he chuckled darkly. “Because you are admired and I am feared.” He reached for a piece of bread. “That was not always the way people saw me through. Time can change you and experiences can set you on a different path. You are young, wench. And I am King,” he eyed her again. “We are not the same.”

She settled down into a morose silence. She could not counter what he said when it was true. She could not take a higher road when she has done much in her short time to break families and hurt others. Her focus had never been to cause pain to any but the man sitting across from her. Brienne would never have killed those had they not been in her path to him… Her breath caught suddenly. She did not want to, but she could see his actions more clearly. He was ruling as a man with a military mind would.

Her father had done good in the world. He had taken in those that needed safe passage without question. He had stood as a gatekeeper and let any that wished to flee in… but it had all been done against the King’s wishes. Her father had been in the way. An object to be moved. Her stomach rolled and she felt nauseous. This was not how she saw the man who had raised and loved her. He had done what he felt was right and she had loved him for it. He had showed her how to rule with grace and dole out justice with nobility. 

Selwyn had been a beacon to many. She looked up at Jaime and saw him watching her. His expression was shadowed and he looked haunting in the lack of light. His eyebrow arched. She realized that he was waiting for her to speak. He was waiting for her next remark, but she had none. Her mind was conflicted and full. She played with the handle of her spoon and then scooped up some more soup. The moment the rich fish broth slid down her throat, she wanted to throw it back up, but she didn’t. She forced it down. Letting it sit heavily in her stomach. 

“I do not think I will ever agree with your methods, Your Grace, but I cannot deny my own deeds.” She met his gaze. “It does make me question once again why you would host the daughter of a dishonored Lord. You have no qualms killing those that oppose you. What about me makes you wish to keep me around?”

A slow grin spread across his face. Brienne felt her insides quiver at the expression. The shakiness was both from fear…and from desire. She hated that he could make her feel both so easily. “I find you fascinating, wench. You fight better than most men I have gone to battle with and you are quite amusing when angry…” He paused. "I know you have felt my reactions to you." She looked away from him, flushing at his words, stirring the soup with her spoon. She started to bring it to her lips when he continued, "I want to fuck you."

The spoon fell from her slack grip, clanging onto the floor. Her body temperature rose. Brienne started sweating and her heart rate jumped. Suddenly she did not feel like she would throw up but more like she would pass out. She couldn't have heard him correctly. She must have misunderstood. No man, especially one that looked like him, and was king to boot would want to… with her. "Wha- what?"

His grin turned wicked, his white teeth glinting. The lion showing his fangs. "Oh, wench, I believe you heard me quite well but I will say it again." He leaned forward. "And slowly, so you will not be confused. I. Want. To. Fuck. You."

Brienne swallowed roughly.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

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_Seven Years Prior_

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Jaime pulled the crown from his head. He hated the weight of it already. It was too big and felt awkward. His body moved with purpose through the winding halls of the Red Keep. He was desperate to get to Cersei and hold her in his arms. He touched her letter in his breast pocket and grinned in anticipation. He hoped she was not too angry that it took him so long to reach her.

The coronation had taken much longer than he would have liked. For all he was concerned, they could have done it in a quiet ceremony. Just him and the Septon. A few prayers to the Seven and his oath to the people, but no, that was not how it was. Crowning a king took time and was seen as a momentous occasion. The pomp and circumstance was all for show. The real action will come later when he will stand in front of his subjects. This day was all for the nobles to dress up and gorge themselves on food and wine.

He had shaken more hands today than any before and it had left him cold. There had been a falseness to the smiles of those that came to see him get crowned. Cold calculation had been in the eyes of the nobles. It became apparent that all of them wanted his favor, all _wanted_ something. Silly women and pompous men. Jaime had the taste for neither. Especially when he had Cersei. 

His golden lioness. His cock got hard thinking about her beyond the door he stood in front of. Was her surprise for him that she was unclothed and excited? He hoped she was wanting but not in her bare skin yet. He wished to rip her clothes from her body and relish the present beneath them. Her ample breasts spring forth, spilling into his palms, her smooth delectable skin… His eager cock strained harder, demanding to be released into her warm hands. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on the metal knob, turning it slowly…

[ ](https://imgur.com/JE6fKje)


	5. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The halls of the castle were eerily quiet. The clock chiming in the Sept was the only distinct sound. The first thing he noticed when he opened the door was the smell. It was overwhelming and caused him to gag. He twisted away from the scene and breathed in deeply. One deep breath, two, three… Jaime turned back around and entered his sister’s chambers. He felt the world shift under his feet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so much to say, so many people to thank and I will. But first I want to thank my friends for standing by me when I have doubted myself and this story. I want to thank all the readers that have stuck around as I battled through this endless mess I call chapter 5. Trust me it's a million times better now than when I started. 
> 
> I want to thank Merrymaya for being the incredible person she is and giving up her free time to edit this monster. And for some of the art work. The other one is mine and you can definitely tell who is the more talented one.
> 
> I have to thank Ro for the beautiful, amazing posters that grace the top and bottom of the chapter. 
> 
> Thank you to my test readers, (ILikeBlue and River_Melody_Pond) who continue to give me feedback to make each section better than I could ever do on my own.
> 
> And once again: Thank you to the readers. I'm so grateful to you all. I have been so busy and have not replied to all your comments, but I will because each one means so much to me. You are so incredible. Each and every one of you. 
> 
> I hope you like the chapter.... Chapter 6 is already started so the wait will be much less. LOL

[ ](https://imgur.com/B9OzXQB)

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Chapter 5: Temptation 

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** _Seven Years Prior_ **

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[](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

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The halls of the castle were eerily quiet. The clock chiming in the Sept was the only distinct sound. The first thing he noticed when he opened the door was the smell. It was overwhelming and caused him to gag. He twisted away from the scene and breathed in deeply. One deep breath, two, three… Jaime turned back around and entered his sister’s chambers. He felt the world shift under his feet. The darkened room was in complete disarray. Everything was wrong and it made his body tighten. If it did not hurt so much, he would have laughed bitterly. He was a fool to think that his life… Waves of anger gathered in his heart. He was burning before he walked in. Burning with lust and bursting with hope that for the first time, he would not have to hide who he loved from this shit hole city any longer. Who would dare to make a comment in the face of the king and his Queen. Now he was boiling with rage and betrayal. His sister. His sweet sister. She had been… those fuckers!

The initial shock was wearing off rapidly. His eyes sharpened, details became clearer. Sex, sweat and…death. He looked around the dimly lit room and felt his insides clench. On the bed were the unclothed bodies of two men. The Kettleblack brothers bodies were twisted on the bed with vomit around their mouths. Jaime looked over his brothers-in-arms in horror and disgust. They had taken Cersei, their cocks had been inside her against her will. Their large bodies and faces were covered in bruises, claw marks, blood and other fluids. Wine had spilt on the bed, dark and seeping into the sheets. He was proud of his lover, she fought back. She raged against these men that brutalized her body. She had shown herself to be the lioness he had always known. His Cersei had fought to stop the horrors from taking over… His mind turned as much as his stomach did. Where was she? He needed to find her and make sure she was alright. Looking over the men, Jaime heard a different woman, another queen in his head. Apparently, he could not save any woman from this fate. 

Tapestries were torn from around the bed. Folds of fabric clenched in Osmund’s white fist. His other hand was wrapped around his throat. Jaime sneered through the pain as he glared at the men that had bedded _his_ lover. He hoped their deaths were painful. That the poison ripped their throats and turned their organs to liquid. He looked at the younger brother. Osney’s eyes were still open, his mouth was covered in white foam and blood leaked from the corners of his eyes. His side was slit with a knife, blood pooling and cooling around him. Bloody hand prints could be seen on the sheets, walls and a small table.

His mind grew more frantic. Where was Cersei? Where was his lover? Jaime glanced down and that’s when he saw her. Cersei was laying on the floor with a goblet in her hand. Her skin, which had always been as golden as his, was turning bluish in death. Her mouth was parted, lips slightly bloody. Her eyes were shut as if she was still sleeping. Even through the anger and hurt, he felt grief knock the wind out of him. He dropped to his knees, the impact of the stone causing physical pain to shoot through his body… it mixed and got lost in the emotional pain that had held him hostage since he entered. 

He took her nude form in his arms, gripping her to him, whispering all his regret. Her body was so cold to the touch and smelt of those other men. He glanced down her legs and saw the bruises on her thighs. Fingers pressing so hard into her smooth flesh it forever marked her. His breath caught even harder in his chest. She could not leave him. They were supposed to live together and die in each other’s arms. That’s all he ever wanted. It’s what she had _told_ him. 

_“One soul, born together, die together. We are all that matters. Lannisters only. You and me, Jaime.”_

That was what she would say as they grunted and fucked and took stolen time. Her nails digging into his ass as he pushed into her. Hard sex because without pain it was not real, if it did not leave proof on his skin how was he to know he was hers. The blood seeping from crescent marks that she left on him, bruises in hidden places, bites all over his chest. The first time she bit so hard, teeth marks and blood marred his skin, he had felt a mixture of pleasure and fear. 

_”Why?” he pointed at them. “People will see. People will talk.”_

_“Who will see under your tunic?” she arched her brow in a perfect mockery of his concerns. “Only I see you thus. No other woman will touch you, right my lover?”_

_“No other,” he promised. “Only you.” He moved to pull her closer. She sneered and swatted at his hands. “Will you not give me one last kiss to remember you by?”_

_Her scornful expression turned into a smirk and she tapped his still bleeding chest, “But I have, dear brother.”_

He wanted to sob into her hair but he could not. All he could feel was rage. Fuck those fucking Gods! Fuck them all. She was supposed to be his. She was supposed to be warm and in his arms… their children were meant to rule this fucking piece of shit world. Fuck the Stranger for stealing his pleasure from him. That bastard took her and left the shell. The Dark God took the ones that hurt her before he could show them what happens to those that dare hurt his beloved… He looked at the bodies on the bed. He gently carried Cersei to the chaise chair, placing her carefully before ripping one of the large fur blankets from the bed and covered her with it, tucking the edges around the curves of her body. 

He stalked over to where the brothers were laying dead upon the mattress, and pulled his dagger out to take their still hearts out of their chests. He raised his arm up, intent on ripping them apart…

“Jaime!” He turned at the sound of his brother’s voice. Jaime’s vision was distorted and warped, all he saw was rage and vengeance. Tyrion looked around the room, stopping at Cersei’s body. His mouth pulled and he closed his eyes for a second. “Jaime, come with me. We need to leave. We need to find a maester.” His mismatched eyes opened and he gasped sharply. “I am sorry, dear brother.”

“They,” Jaime’s hand shook holding the dagger over Osmund’s chest. “Defiled her. They raped her. She killed herself to hide from the shame. They deserved their deaths…” Tyrion let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You are so cold, brother, you would dare laugh at our sister’s pain?” He spat the words with fury.

Jaime moved as a lion would, ready to strike and for the first time the full weight of his anger was directed at his brother. The fire in his blood was making him sweat, the dagger slipping a little and he had to keep grasping it over and over. The thought of cutting Tyrion’s throat for laughing at Cersei’s death repeated in his mind. Once he realized what he wanted to do, he gagged and turned his head from his brother, ashamed.

Tyrion’s eyes turned hard and he walked further into the room, “I was laughing at _you_. You still do not open your eyes to her. She is laying cold and nude on the couch and you still do not see the woman she was. The men on the bed. The evidence on the sheets. How can you…” He stopped and shook his head. “Come, you are the newly appointed King and we need to get you out of here before anyone finds you with a dagger, posed to destroy two dead men.”

“I will not leave her,” Jaime reluctantly moved away from the former Kingsguard men’s bodies and over to Cersei’s. He kneeled again on the ground beside her body and brushed some of her golden curls from her face. “She meant all to me. I am now only half a man without her.”

“You are a _King_,” Tyrion hissed, sounding like Tywin for a moment. Jaime shivered. “You need to leave and start ruling. Let me handle this.” Jaime opened his mouth and Tyrion held up his hand. “I will treat the Queen with the respect she deserves… even if we did not like each other, Cersei was of my blood just as she was of yours.”

Jaime wanted to refuse and rage at him for even suggesting that he leave. But in the back of his mind he knew this was sound advice. In truth he wanted to get away to cause pain, he needed to thrust his blade into the soft part of something. The anger inside of him was rising higher and higher. He wanted to show the Seven Kingdoms how cruel of a man he could be. It took him three tries to get the blade back in his boot strap. He still longed to cut their hearts from their chests and their worthless cocks from their bodies to feed to the pigs, but it would do nothing. They were long dead and the dead did not feel. He wanted them to _feel!_ His movements were jerky as he lifted himself from the stone and swayed a little on his feet. He was lightheaded from the pain of losing the only person he had ever loved and from the knowledge he did not save her from the fate too many women had to endure.

His boot hit a bit of folded parchment and he bent slowly down to pick it up. The perfect script of his sister’s writing was on the front, his name, her last words… Did she curse him in the way he is cursing himself? Did she hate him even more for letting those bastards take something so precious from her? His hand shook as he held the parchment.

“What is that?” Tyrion asked as he moved closer. Jaime shoved the note into a fold in his cloak and shook his head.

“It was nothing,” Jamie lied smoothly. He needed to get away from his brother’s shrewd eyes so he could hold her last words to him closely. He started to leave when Tyrion cleared his throat. “You have something to say?”

“I have something to ask.”

“What is it? Make it quick so I can be on my way. You did not want me here and now you are asking questions so I cannot leave.” The bitterness of his tone surprised him, but he knew Tyrion did not care to see him break over their sister. Tyrion hated Cersei and Jaime did not wish to be with anyone that did not see her as she truly was. 

Tyrion’s head snapped back as if he had been struck. Jaime swallowed the twinge of guilt he felt and narrowed his eyes to hide the mixed emotions. “I was concerned about you. I wanted to ask if you would like me to have someone we trust remove the message before the gossip started, but if you do not care…”

“What message?” He questioned, turning his body to face his brother. 

“Did you really not see it?” Tyrion took a step toward him. “Well, some of your denial of the truth makes sense now,” the words were quiet but Jaime heard them clearly in the quiet of the room

“What are you speaking of?” he snapped again, harsher than before. In Tyrion’s opinion Jaime had never known Cersei and his brother would never stop reminding him of that. The dwarf was an even bigger fool than most. How could he not see how Cersei had ached and had been forced to be hard? How could he not relate to being crushed under their father’s demands? Cersei had only acted so cruelly because she knew no other way, but under it all, she had been a loving woman. She had loved _him_. She had been true to _him_. The shorter man hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Out with it!”

The younger man looked at him and Jaime could see the sadness in his eyes. His heart began to pound in his chest as Tyrion turned and pointed to the wall above the bed. A message written in blood, darkened to a rusty brown from being exposed to the air. Five words. Clearly Cersei’s handwriting. Sloppy letters, dripping down… he looked at his sister on the couch and a small amount of doubt started to creep along the edges of his mind. He pushed it away… it could not be. She loved him. She left her final words to _him_… He looked at the bloody sentence again and held his breath.

_ All Hail The Fucking King_

*****************

** _Present Day_ **

*****************

[](https://imgur.com/4Mgw5L9)

*****************

Brienne stared at him. Her body was vibrating with nerves at what he had just told her. _ I. Want. To. Fuck. You._ He had said the words… but they had to mean something different than what she thought because no man- She played with the edge of her napkin, folding the fabric, bending it over itself. 

“I do not believe you have ever been speechless since I have known you, wench.” She watched the way his green eyes danced in the low light of the candles. As she reached toward her cup with a shaky hand, the contents sloshed over the side and she cursed under her breath. “Careful,” he whispered, leaning across the table to rest his hand on hers. “If you are not, I could get the impression you have never heard a man say those words.”

“I have not,” she said mostly to herself, but in the quiet of the room, he heard her.

“Come now, wench,” she gritted her teeth against the name. That was the least of her concerns at the moment. “You have lived with men and soldiers, do not tell me one or two have not tried to get into your breeches.”

Her eyes met his solidly for the first time since he made that ridiculous declaration. “One or two tried.” She rolled her shoulders back and sat up straighter. “All they got was broken noses and fingers.”

Jaime paused, searching her eyes for something. He smirked and shook his head. “I almost believe you.”

“Almost,” she repeated. “Why do you not believe me? Have you not seen me? Men do not want tall, ugly girls that can outduel them. Only a fool would wish to bed someone such as myself.” Again the words were low and meant for her ears alone.

“Are you calling me a fool?” Jaime scoffed. “Terribly brave of you to call the King and your _host_ a fool.”

“I said only a fool would wish to bed me,” she clarified through tight lips. “Seeing as your statement earlier could not be true and was just merely a way to keep me off-balance, I do not think the word appropriate.” She sounded much more confident in her words than she felt. Her mind turned back to that moment in the practice yard, when he was pressed against her. She could not deny that she had _felt something_. She pulled the napkin from her lap and placed it on the table. “Thank you for dinner, Your Majesty. It was lovely. I am feeling quite exhausted and do not wish to be made a mockery of any longer. I would like to return to my chambers.”

She waited for him to release her from this torment of a meal. How could he get so much enjoyment out of hurting another? Did he really not see the scars upon her body that had nothing to do with blades? Could he really not see the lashing marks words had branded her with? Brienne’s shock was giving way to anger. Anger at him for choosing this way to make a jape out of her. How could he?

Her hands gripped her chair’s armrest until her knuckles turned white from the strain. He continued to watch her. His feline eyes taking in everything she could not hide. Finally, he wiped the corners of his mouth and placed his own napkin on the table. 

“I will not let you leave until you understand what I am saying.”

“I understand quite well, Your Grace,” she breathed deeply to keep the tremor out of her voice. She did not want him to think she was afraid. She was, of course, but that was not the only reason why her tone was shaky. “You made your words clear and the intention behind them clearer.”

He smirked, his perfect lips curling in the most sarcastic way. The expression set her teeth on edge. “I believe I made my intention obvious as well, but I still have an inkling that you are misunderstanding my meaning.”

“I do not believe one could misunderstand your statement, Your Grace.” She narrowed her eyes. “I see the jape for what it is. I do not need you to explain how much joy you are getting from the words and their effect upon me.”

“Oh, wench,” he purred and she shivered. Damn him! Her body felt like a fire had been ignited inside of her. Slow embers building with each brush of his emerald eyes on her skin. She flushed and longed to cover up with her cloak so he could not see just how much the color seeped into the paleness of her flesh. She swallowed. “Please do tell. How does hearing me say I want to fuck you make you feel?” He leaned forward, the light from the candles catching every different shade of gold in his hair and making it glow. 

“Stop it,” she whispered, ashamed by how her body reacted to the silk of his tone. It slipped and slid around her like soft fabric, caressing her and making her burn. “Why are you doing this?”

“You said that it was clear,” he leaned back and she could suddenly breathe easier with him being further away. “But I am coming to realize it might not be the case.” He touched his chin, his long finger drawing her attention. “You seem to think my statement was made falsely, just a quick joke to make me laugh with glee.”

“Of course that is what it was,” she stood quickly, almost knocking the chair back in her haste. “Nothing else makes sense. You certainly could never feel such a deep desire for me. That is absurd and frankly insulting.”

“Insulting?” This time he did laugh at her. “How is a King wanting to fuck you insulting?”

“Because you _couldn’t_!” Her voice increased in volume and her breathing became harsher. Her chest rose and fell with each inhale and exhale. His eyes strayed to her breasts, as minor as they were, and he licked his lips. “I am not a woman that incites passion within a man. Do not act like you did not know that when you gave me a collection of dresses meant for a more desirable body than the one I have.”

His moss eyes flashed and he stood as well. She felt the ground shift beneath her feet as he moved into her space again. Each step he took toward her caused her to take one back. The advance and retreat dance continued until her back was to the cold stone wall. Brienne shook with all the emotions inside of her. She was not one to run so easily and yet… the look in his eyes had her on edge. It was dark and yet also lit with something so forbidden she almost averted her eyes from it. 

Jaime took her chin in his hand, his grip gentle but firm. “Look, wench!” He locked his gaze with hers and she was forced to see the flicks of fire that darkened the green of his orbs. The breath in her chest caught. He let go of her chin but she could not look away now. She was being pulled in, tied up in the intensity of his stare. “I have said the words but you still do not understand, so let me explain further.” The King moved his head so that his lips were close to her left ear, “I want to have you in my bed with your legs wrapped around my waist,” she closed her eyes, her body quaking, her insides melting in the flames of her lust. Fuck! No, this cannot be… “I want your lips, those plump fucking lips, parted and wet from my kiss.” Her nipples began to get hard and pebble against the thin material of her dress. His warm breath fanned across her neck as he moved his head toward her flushing cheek. She clenched her hands into tight fists. How could she want this man? This was wrong! This was madness! She should be locked away. Her mind fogged further as he continued his verbal assault. “You said you do not have a desirable body, but, wench, I have thought of nothing else since you walked into my dining hall in that fucking dress.”

“Please,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. 

“Please what?” his thumb brushed against her forearm and she jumped, pressing her lips together to stop a moan from being heard. “I have told you what I want. What do you want, wench?”

_I want you to stop making me feel things I should not,_ she thought as anger and desire sang a symphony in her blood. _I want to climb out the window and run from this torment. I want… I want him to touch me._ Hate mixed with other emotions. Hate for him, hate directed at her. 

“Why are you doing this?” Brienne was getting desperate at this point. Nothing made sense. This did not happen to her! She was the one in the dark corner that no one noticed other than to mock and make wagers on. She was too manly by half to be wanted by men and yet he was acting like… this… like his offer was a true one. She forced her mind away from that. “You do not need my body to keep you warm. There are brothels and Ladies that would open their doors and legs to you. This is a horrible jape. Cruel and heartless.”

He leaned in closer, their chests touching on each exhale of air. Her heart thundered in her chest and she sent a silent prayer to the Maiden that he could not feel how hard her nipples were through her dress. The glint in his eyes told her that he could. King Jaime knew he had her stomach twisting and her insides melting. He was a predator with his prey and she was the frightened rabbit ready to be devoured. Ready and, if the wetness between her legs was any indication, willing.

“You are quite right,” he brushed his fingers along her shoulder near the open part of her dress, callouses caressed the scarred skin and felt so good that it _had_ to be wrong. “I could have a whore brought to my bed. I did in fact. I had one,” he smirked and moved his hand again, this time down the outside of her arm. She _ached_ and pressed her thighs together hoping to relieve whatever he was creating in her. “I took her to my bed. She was quite well-liked, highly recommended.” His lips were close to hers. She knew this should repulse her, but she could not think past the haze. “Her talent was easy to assess, but she lacked something I needed… a need that was quite alarming at first actually.”

“What did she lack?” her voice was thick and husky. Jaime’s eyes darkened further. He knew for sure now. He knew she wanted him. Damn him to the Seven Hells and all the pains that lay there! 

“She was not _you_,” his tone changed as well, became heavy and deep. Sensual. A man seducing a woman with just his voice. And she was falling for it. She was beyond reason. Still, some doubt flickered in and she mulled over the foreign words. “While with her, I thought about you. Ungentlemanly of me I know. To be with one woman while thinking so ardently about another. But, alas, that is the truth. I thought of your hands,” he slid his right hand over hers and another shiver ran down her spine. “On me and my cock. I thought about your lips sucking at my skin and how I would return the favor. I thought about your body under mine as I worked you into a whimpering mess begging for release.”

_Oh Gods,_ she thought. She was almost there now. She wanted him to give her that release and she wanted to taste him as well. _Oh fucking bloody Hells!_

“Would you like that, wench?”

“I,” her words stopped in her throat. She needed to get away. She needed to think. Brienne lifted her hand to wipe a drop of sweat away from her neck and accidentally touched his chest on the way up. The fabric of his shirt gave way and she felt the ripples of his muscular stomach against her knuckles. He hissed and she sucked in a breath of her own. There was a tingling that ran up her arm. For just a moment, she felt power surge through her, but as quick as the candle was lit in her, it was wiped out by fear. “I…would like to return to my chambers.” Brienne finally finished. 

Jaime arched his left brow, but nodded. “Very well. I will call for the guards.” He stepped toward the door and she exhaled easily for the first time. He stopped and she waited. “I will leave my chamber door open tonight. When you are ready to agree, all you have to do is enter.”

“How do you know I will not enter with the intent on killing you?” she countered, hoping to sound firm, but the shakiness of her voice gave away her real feelings.

He smirked, “I will take my chances.” She looked down at the ground, flushing again. Her self-doubt was too raw and he could see all her weaknesses. She had to center herself. The world felt tilted and she could not seem to steady herself. A real part of her wanted to pull him back, be surrounded by him and his heat. She frowned deeply, as much resentment filled her soul. What was wrong with her? What was so broken inside of her that she would wish to pull him back and be covered by him? She was weak. And the King knew… “Guards!” She raised her eyes from the ground and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the guards approach. They may hate her, but at least she was not alone with the king any longer… “Please take our guest to her chamber and then return to me. I have instructions you must follow.”

Each nodded and replied with the appropriate response, then she was led away. Every step from his solar was giving her strength. She built her walls back up and by the time she entered her chambers, she was almost back to herself. She paced the floor as she gnawed on her bottom lip. Her mind was full of memories from her past, from her time in the North. One floated up to the surface and dominated the rest. Brienne felt her knees give way. She made it to the bed just in time.

*****************

** _Two Years Prior_ **

*****************

[](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

*****************

She walked into the castle with slow steps. Brienne looked around her at all the men and women laughing over steins of ale. She shook out her hair, the snow and ice falling in light clumps at her feet. Lord Stark stepped close to her. She felt her eyes shift down automatically. It was how she had stayed safe for so long, eyes down and shoulders slumped. Appear smaller and less noticeable. She learned quickly that if you did not draw attention to yourself, no one really cared to notice you anyway.

“You need not do that, Brienne,” Lord Stark said softly to her. She strained to hear him over the loud voices around them. “You are with allies and friends. Your father would be proud of you. Remember that.” 

_Brienne_. 

It had been moons since she had been addressed by her proper name. Such a simple thing. A name, but Seven Heavens, it made her want to weep. He seemed to recognize the signs and smiled warmly at her. “Come, let me introduce you to my sons and daughters. A Lady should be presented with propriety.”

She hesitated, “Please, Lord Stark,” she shook her head, “I do not wish to be put before your family. I am not a Lady any longer. My title and my home have been ripped from me. As such, I should sit with the common folk.”

His gray eyes, so much like the wolf in his house sigil, turned sad. “You are still Lady Brienne of Tarth. Do not let the King take away your identity as he took your land.”

After a moment she nodded and he smiled gently at her. Together they walked up to the head table but the closer she got, the more steps she left between them. She did not feel right staying at his side. Brienne could feel the eyes of the Northern men and women on her. Lord Stark reached the dais and waited for her before stepping up and giving his wife a kiss on the cheek over the massive table. 

“Catelyn,” he said warmly. “How I have missed you, my love.”

The older red-headed woman smiled softly. “I have missed you as well, my husband. Is this her? The one from Tarth,” she whispered in his ear. 

He nodded as he released her and stepped back to Brienne. “I have a very important guest to introduce to you,” his gray met hers and he smiled at her to give her confidence. “This young woman is Lady Brienne of Tarth.” He pointed to the end of the table furthest from Catelyn where a young man about her age sat, stocky with deep reddish-brown hair and dark blue eyes. He smiled at her, his demeanor light even with the weight of war over all of them. “That is my son Robb. He will be training with you and the others while you are with us.” She nodded in his direction and he nodded back before returning to his meal of deer meat and beans. “Next to him is Bran,” the younger boy grinned up at her. He, like his brother, had auburn hair and blue eyes. His cheeks were chubby with youth and red from the chill. Brienne found herself smiling at him. Next she was introduced to the youngest of the Stark children, Rickon. She was coming to realize that many of the kids favored Ned’s wife in coloring- red hair with blue eyes. Moving to Catelyn’s right side were the Stark girls. Arya clearly got the Stark’s features and dark hair. She was staring up at Brienne with a quiet intensity.

“You fight,” she asked and Brienne jolted. None of the others had spoken to her.

“Yes,” she nodded to the young girl.

“What is your favorite weapon?”

“I learned sword fighting early in my youth, but I have a deep love for the morning star.”

Arya smirked, obviously pleased with the answer. “I want to learn to fight, but father wishes me older before I handle a sword. How old were you?”

Brienne’s eyes shifted to the Lord of Winterfell before returning to the sharp eyes of the girl. “I was three and ten.”

Ayra dropped her spoon and crossed her arms. “I am two and ten. Will I be old enough at three and ten, father?”

“We shall see, daughter,” he said with quiet authority. He turned to the last Stark and the one that was the quietest. Her beauty was breathtaking, the Tully features once again being stronger, as proven by her rich red hair and crystal blue eyes. Her skin was as smooth and pale as the snow on the ground. “This is my oldest daughter, Sansa,” the woman in question lifted her eyes to Brienne’s and Brienne was gripped by sadness. Sansa’s azure orbs were lifeless but somehow also filled with pain. She looked fragile, sitting among the rest of the Starks. Ned’s voice broke Brienne’s musings. “Let’s get you some food child. You must be starving.”

“Yes,” she whispered. Her vision returning to the ghost of a girl. “Thank you, My Lord.”

The first few weeks in Winterfell were hard on her. She longed for the sun and the sand, the warmth and the sweet smells of the place she used to call home. Her nights were lonely, filled with dreams that always turned into horrible nightmares. She would awake in a cold sweat, her body chilled to the bone not just because of the snow and wind, but because of how her dreams always ended. Every single one, no matter how they started, ended with her watching her brother and father die.

The only time she felt comfortable in this icy land was in the training yard. Robb and Jon, the only child Lord Stark did not introduce to her, became two of her closest companions. Especially Jon. His quiet nature and morose attitude pulled at her heart. She saw a lost soul just like she was. Slowly, they started a routine. They would break their fast, train, have lunch, learn and dine together. The three of them, with Theon- the Starks ward, most of the time, her and Jon all the time. Theon was not kind and she often felt uncomfortable in his presence, but she enjoyed Robb’s jovial nature too much to avoid him when his friend was around. 

Brienne knew that there were whispers about the bastard and the newcomer. She was trying to be comfortable with being talked about and Jon was always quick to say, “It is just words. Let them talk. That is all they have to amuse themselves.”

“You sound like you are used to that,” she said as they put their tourney swords away.

“I am,” he shrugged, holding the door for her. “I am a bastard. I have nothing to offer them but fodder for their japes.”

“That is not true,” she told him earnestly. “You are a great fighter and kind. You are worth more than your title of Lord’s bastard.”

“Mayhaps,” he cast his eyes down and shrugged again. “But that is all I am and all I will ever be…” he looked up and she followed his eyes toward the Lord of the Winterfell standing away from them, talking to one of the other Lords. “To anyone of importance.”

Brienne swallowed back her comment. She thought there was more to the situation but she had not been around the family long enough to even begin to puzzle it out. 

Sansa was the only Stark that Brienne hardly saw. She was a phantom that only appeared at meals and always rushed away before anyone could speak to her. During one meal, Brienne asked Robb about his sister and his eyes turned colder than she had ever seen. His full lips thinned and whited out with tension and all he said was, “The Lannisters ruined her. She came back a shell of herself.”

Brienne once again swallowed whatever thought she had, but his comment did spark another fire inside of her. That young woman was too young to be as broken as she was… The King would pay for what had happened to her. She would help the Starks in whatever way she could. That horrid family should be punished.

*****************

** _Present Day_ **

*****************

[](https://imgur.com/4Mgw5L9)

*****************

Brienne met the sun the next morn, her bed unslept in and her body exhausted from pacing and fretting over all that had taken place the night before. Her brain hurt from thoughts that did not make sense. His words, his touch, and his breath on her skin… it was too much. All of her demanded that she reject him and his offer. She was a maid, by choice and by the Gods. Her looks and mannish nature were great ways to keep men away.

Even the ones she thought she could love. 

Hearing him say so plainly that he wanted to … she shook her head. No, she could not think about it anymore. She walked over to the basin in the corner of the room and reached in to put water on her face. The water was tepid and stale but worked in waking her enough to stay sharp. She could not lag or be dull-minded with the King, especially after the night before.

There was a knock at her door and she looked at it warily. Her heart jumped into her throat, cutting off her air and making it hard to breathe. She then released the pent up anxiety at the sight of Pia’s smiling face. Her handmaid walked in carrying a new pitcher of water and some bread with cheese on a tray. 

“Morn’g, Milady,” she said with her normal cheer. “Did ya have fun last n’ght?”

Brienne jolted and her face flushed. “It was nice,” she said with some difficulty. “Why do you ask?”

“Ya’r wearing the same dress as I last saw ya.”

She looked down and felt her blood rush again. She was. She was still wearing her gown from the night before. She had been so flustered by the dinner that she had not even changed out of her clothes and into a nightshift. Brienne crossed her arms over her chest to hide what had already been seen. Her mind tried to find an excuse despite the tiredness. The clothes, the undisturbed bed, her appearance… 

“Nothing unsavory happened,” she rushed to explain for no reason other than to remind herself of the fact. She _hadn’t_ done anything dishonorable. She was still a maid, still as ugly and unbedded as when she went up to the King’s solar. “I just did not feel like sleeping, that is all.”

Pia tilted her head a little to the left. “King Jaime would n’ver do sumthing uns- uns- unsavory wit ya.” Brienne felt the sting of those words. Even this sweet girl could see the truth. “He likes ya too much!” Brienne almost laughed at that, but kept herself from showing her disbelief… barely. “He has n’ver had a woman stay at the Castle. Ya are the first.”

“He has,” Brienne said before she could stop herself. Pia’s brown eyes widened and she felt like the need to continue. “He told me himself.”

“Ya mean a whore,” Pia scoffed. “Ev’ry man has one. King Jaime does not do as most men. If he had one, it was only one.”

“I do not think this is appropriate to speak about,” Brienne began to feel uncomfortable and wanted nothing more than to take the gown off and hide for the day.

Pia flushed and looked down, “Ya’r right, Milady. I should not… me mouth. I talk too much…”

Brienne remembered their conversation about the Mountain and instantly felt ashamed. She had been hurt because someone believed her to speak more than she should and Brienne just admonished her for the same thing. “Pia,” the young girl tried not to but Brienne saw her flinch. “I will not tell the King about our words, but it is not right to gossip about His Majesty. And that fault is not yours. I am the one that spoke first.” She walked over to the handmaiden and touched her briefly on the shoulder. “Will you help me out of this gown?”

The young woman nodded but would not meet Brienne’s eyes. The woeful feeling of hurting someone weighed heavily on her, but she did not know how to fix it. She did not know anything anymore it seemed. The dress released and slipped from her body. She stepped out of it, going back to the basin to use a cloth on her body to refresh herself. By the time she turned back around, Pia had placed an outfit on the bed. She felt a wave of relief hit her that it was not another dress but instead a cream colored tunic and a black split skirt. She got dressed quickly with Pia’s help and was just sitting down to eat some bread when another knock at the door broke the uncomfortable silence. A young boy entered the room, after Brienne allowed him to enter. 

The boy was about Pia’s age with thick brown hair and a bright smile. He bowed toward Brienne and walked over to hand her a letter. She took it with a small smile and read the words written.

> Wench,
> 
> You did not show last night to my great disappointment. Mayhaps you need a little more convincing of my intentions. I request your presence in the courtyard after you break your fast. Podrick will escort you with two guards. I will see you soon.
> 
> Your King

Her hand shook as she rolled the parchment back up and looked at the young man. “Podrick?” She asked.

He nodded enthusiastically. “Podrick Payne, Milady. I will take you to His Grace.”

She closed her eyes, suddenly not hungry and even more nervous than before.

*****************

[](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

*****************

Jaime saw her walking out of the castle with Pod bouncing at her side, his energy infectious as he grinned up at her and tried to contain his excitement. It took all of Jaime’s training as a knight to not react to the young boy. Instead, he focused on the Lady at his side. Brienne was flushed and nervously looking around. He noticed how her eyes shifted from place to place like a rabbit trying to find an escape. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip, over and over as she headed toward him. The closer she got, the straighter her back was and the stiffer her movements.

The grace she possessed in the training yard was gone completely. He narrowed his eyes to observe her more easily. There was a fear in her that he had not seen the night before. She had been shocked, yes, but this was honest terror. His stomach fell a little. He wanted the wench and he had a pretty good idea she wanted him as well, but he would never take a woman if she was afraid of him. Fear was not a turn on to him. He had stood too many nights at the door of a woman with panic in her eyes at the sight of her King for that to be anything but a mood killer. 

He rolled his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back to wait for her. She finally locked eyes with him and her red cheeks infused with more color. He saw her chest lift with her breath as she inhaled deeply and a look of resolution settled across her unique features. She stopped in front of him and swallowed.

Pod broke the tension with an excited, “Here she is, Your Grace!”

Jaime broke eye contact with the wench just long enough to acknowledge the young boy. “Thank you, Pod. You can return to your duties.”

He nodded quickly and all but skipped back to the castle. Once again Jaime had to summon all his training not to, at least, smirk at the boy. He could never remember being as free as Pod. Mayhaps he had been once, a long time ago. But with the years he had just turned so cold, he could no longer recognize the innocence in him. The soldiers stood off to the side, close but still gave the illusion of privacy. Each man purposefully kept their head turned away but Jaime could tell they were ready to step in if the need arose. He was not frightened though. Yes, she was powerful and a talented fighter, but he was sure she would not try to harm him. 

“It is good to see you are not ill,” he said with quiet cynicism.

“Your Grace,” she responded in confusion. 

“You left me without an answer last night,” he stepped toward her to test her reaction. She swayed back, but did not move. He took another step. “I was quite disappointed that you choose to ignore your desires.”

A quick flash of discomfort appeared in her eyes before disappearing into the haze of dullness again. “Is that why you have summoned me to the courtyard? Have I finally offended the Crown to the point you have decided to execute me?” 

This time no amount of training could stop the reaction her words instilled in him. “You believe I have called you here to kill you?”

“It is not unheard of for the King to kill a prisoner for not obeying,” her tone was flat and weak. He gritted his teeth. “I know that the offer last night was made in jest but I must have offended you by not responding in kind.”

“You have once again called yourself my prisoner,” he relaxed his stance. “You are a guest and I would not push you to my bed without you wanting to be in it.” She exhaled and sagged a little, her body deflating at his words. “Come,” he took her hand and she tensed again, but this time the fear was not dominating her sapphire orbs, it was clearly confusion at his actions. He raised her knuckles to his lips and brushed a kiss on them. “I have something to show you, wench. Something I believe you will enjoy.” Her feet shuffled on the stone and she nearly fell into his arms. She pulled her hand from his and both ended up on his shoulders to steady herself. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands resting on her hips, making her gasp. Jaime pressed his lips together to not grin. Once the impulse passed, he said softly so only she could hear, “I knew you wanted to be in my arms. You should have come last night. It’s much nicer without clothes between our bodies, right, wench?”

Her body shook as she gently extracted herself from his light embrace, “I am sorry for my lack of grace, Your Majesty.”

He held himself back from commenting and instead turned and began walking with her at his side. “I have seen your _attraction_ to swords.” She almost tripped again but caught herself. “The smith is designing a new _sheath_ for _my_ sword.” Her breathing increased. The double meanings not lost on her. Good. “I would like your opinion.”

“My opinion,” she squeaked before clearing her throat. 

“Oh yes,” he grinned at her and she flushed, quickly looking away. “A blade must be _inserted_ in a tight and well-oiled sheath, don’t you agree?”

“I would not know, Your Grace,” Brienne continued to look ahead as her blush started cascading down her neck. “I have had but one sword and it was one my father passed to me from an ancestor. His shield rested above our hearth in the great hall when I was young. The sheath that came with the sword was worn and not in great condition. I had to work with it.”

“Well,” he sidestepped a puddle bringing him closer to her, she inhaled sharply again as his arm brushed hers. “Let me show you how good a sword moving in a properly prepared sheath can feel.”

They entered the forge and Brienne’s eyes grew large. The place was warm from the fires and filled with the sounds and smell of steel and leather. She moved almost in a trance toward the blades that were being finished by the smiths. Whetstones slid rhythmically against the steel. Jaime watched her body come alive while surrounded by the weapons. He knew how that felt. He also felt at home in the forge and had come down here repeatedly as a young knight to test the weapons with barely contained glee. He turned toward the guards and nodded to them. They bowed quickly and moved to stand just outside the door.

Jaime moved toward Brienne as she ran her fingers over a fresh blade as if it was a precious gem. He imagined her fingertips grazing his skin that way and his cock hardened. He stepped up behind her to look at the dagger she was admiring while the Blacksmith finished wrapping the hilt. 

“Beautiful, is it not?” His front pressed into her back and she let out a low moan at his heat so close and his hard cock pressed between them. “In the right hands, the blade can be both beautiful and deadly. The push and pull. The _thrusting_,” he moved his hips to step around her, never losing contact, “of a blade. Back and forth.” He watched her hands start shaking and she quickly pulled them away from the weapon so she would not cut herself. “The best part is when you get a good sweat going,” his lips were against her cheek as he leaned forward to pick up the dagger. His arm brushed her breast by accident but he felt her nipple harden with the brief touch. She pressed her lips together, but he heard the sound she tried to restrain. He felt victory in his grasp and continued to press on. “The way a battle can get the juices flowing is intoxicating. The _sounds_ made while pressing close and pulling back to return _harder and faster_ made it even better. The breathy way your partner panted out the words, _I yield._” She turned her head, her lips parting in lust. Her blue eyes darker than he had ever seen them. “There is nothing like being in close proximity with another hot body, clashing and crashing into each other.” He licked his lips and her gaze did just as he wanted, falling to them. He dropped his voice. “You can deny all you wish you do not want to engage in a different type of battle, wench, but your body tells the truth. If you want my lips on you, come to my chambers tonight. _I will not wait forever_.” 

She swallowed and he knew she was slipping into the cavern of lust. Her body was practically pulsing with desire, her need as clear as his own. He would have her soon. He would have her tonight. He walked away from her and back to the master blacksmith, taking his new sheath and giving the man his coin. Brienne was still shaking as they left the forge. The walk back to the castle was filled with thoughts about all the things they would do to each other, of all the things he would do to her.

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** _Two Years Prior_ **

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[](https://imgur.com/4Mgw5L9)

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Two moons past before the women came to her. She stood in an isolated part of the courtyard confronted by some of the fiercest ladies she had ever met. All of them were strong and powerful, not just in fighting but in everything. The first to speak was Maege Mormont. The stout woman with long silvery gray hair stood almost two heads shorter than Brienne but still felt like a giant. Her daughters stood to the side as the leader of Bear Island came closer. Brienne shifted from foot to foot, nervously waiting for whatever the older woman had to say.

“Lord Stark,” Lady Mormont started in a firm tone, “have asked that we teach you how to use other weapons that you may need to in one on one battle with a _man_.”

“Like with your mace,” Brienne questioned in confusion. “My master of arms has instructed-”

“No,” Dacey, the eldest daughter, interrupted, with her sisters rolling their eyes behind her. Dacey was everything her mother was not. She was tall and elegant. Her features were delicate but Brienne knew they could be hard as well. She had the same intensity that her mother had, but it was softened somehow. Brienne envied the way she could hold a man’s attention with her grace and still bash him over the head with her morning star. “We are not speaking of a weapon your carry on your person. We are speaking to your _person_ being the weapon.”

Once again her confusion must have been clear because Lady Mormont huffed and said bluntly, “Men can be seduced and you need to know how!” Brienne flushed instantly. Her cold body warmed to the point of it being almost too hot. She bit at her bottom lip and looked swiftly away from the Bear Island women. “Oh, stop that, girl,” she turned back to see Lady Maege roll her eyes. “This is a tool every woman should know. It is as important as a sword or a mace.”

“No man would…”

“Lies!” The older woman interrupted. “Men think with their cocks.” Brienne flushed deeper. “At one time or another, you may have no choice but to use what the old Gods gave you to win a battle or escape a dangerous moment.”

“Really, my Lady,” Brienne stuttered and stumbled over her words. “I do not believe this is a lesson I will ever need…”

“Has no man tried to take you?”

Brienne flashed to one night when three men had tried. She had only been in Shipbreaker’s Bay for three moons when she had been attacked by them coming out of a pub. They had reeked of wine and ale and scuffled more than walked, leaning on each other. She had been trying so hard to not be noticed as she was learning to do, when they had called out to her. The words from that night still floated to the surface when she slept. Brienne had fought, but it had not been enough. Inside she had died a little thinking of her fate and what had been about to happen. It had been by the grace of the Warrior that another man came out of the shadows to help her. The three drunken men were left with nothing but broken noses and fingers. 

“Yes,” she said quietly. “There have been.”

“Then you know what I speak of is the truth. One day you will have to use your body to get close to a man, to gain his trust. We will teach you how to do that and how to use it to your advantage…”

Brienne held her breath as the women lead her into the castle for her first lesson in how to use sex as a weapon. She knew it would be futile. Men did not see her in the way they saw other women. She would never have to use what she learned.

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** _Present Day_ **

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[](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

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Jaime entered his chambers and looked around. The hearth was blazing with a large fire and the bed was turned down. A flagon of wine with two goblets was on a small table next to a pitcher of water. His maids and pages had set up the room nicely for him. He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, pulling at the buckles of his boots. He wanted to be comfortable when the wench showed. He tried not to think about the real chance she would not grace his door. The fact was that he did not know. She had been clearly shocked by his blunt words. Her full lips had parted in surprise, those large endless blue eyes had widened until he thought they would roll out of her skull. Brienne’s assertion that he could not possibly want her was a bit confusing to him, he had to admit. She seemed certain that he- that no one- could want to bed her… but she had been bedded… or maybe…

He shook his head. No! There was no way she was still a maiden. Someone must have seen her long legs and that strong body and lusted after her. Jaime rose from the bed and started pacing the length of his floor. No woman was innocent and pure. He learned that lesson the hard way. He did not fault her or anyone from finding some pleasure when the world was full of bullshit, but to act as though she had never touched or been touched… 

He thought back to how she had reacted to his presence and to his slight touches. She had been immensely responsive, her breathing quickening and her cheeks flushing more than usual. Her body told the story. She wanted him as he wanted her. Hate and anger only helped fuel the flame of lust. It was intoxicating and exhilarating to feel that fire rush through his veins and see an answering one in her eyes. They would never agree on anything of value, but he knew their bodies would pulse and flare and the fucking would be incredible. 

Cersei had taught him many lessons in their time together, many lessons he wished to forget, but the one she got right was that sex was power. Brienne obviously did not know that yet. Her experience too limited to grasp that what was between her legs could make men weep. His sweet sister knew… his sweet sister had always known. Even before his cock had breached her maidenhead, she knew how to bend his will with a twist of her tongue in his mouth. 

Jaime pulled his tunic from his pants and lifted it from his body. He would be relaxed when the wench appeared. He would make sure she knew he was quite honest in his regard. The set-up of his chambers had only been the first step. He had also made sure her chambers were unguarded and the door unlatched. The guards were still around, further down the hall with orders to purposefully not notice anything that might take place. He stationed men at all the exits and had them make more rounds, just in case the wench decided to take this as a way to escape. 

From everything he has observed though, he did not believe that would happen. The woman down the hall had too much honor and wanted too badly to end his reign to disappear into the night. Her words echoed in his head like his voice did in the caves under Casterly Rock, “_How do you know I will not enter with the intent on killing you?_” Jaime did not let her see it, but a little doubt had entered his mind, for just a moment. She could. Sex was as close as two people could get, it left you vulnerable and open in ways that could cause harm. Another lesson learned from his sweet sister. The wicked warrior a few steps away from him could kill him and try to escape…

Or maybe she wouldn’t escape. Maybe she would be like him, stand proudly over the slain king, blood still dripping from her blade. Yes… yes, that sounded like her. She would not run from her conquest. She would wear the title of Kingslayer with honor. 

He respected that part of her. That warrior lady who felt the song of steel as deeply as he did. It was part of the reason she fascinated him. He could see the hardness of the metal in her eyes but there was also a tenderness in her. There was a contradiction in her that he wanted to understand. For a long time, some around him believed that he was rather dim, because of his sarcastic nature and sometimes reckless behavior…but he knew people. He had learned to watch and say those things with purpose.

It gave him an advantage to throw an enemy off with a well-placed move and line. He did it with the wench by calling her that. Her reaction, so fierce and fiery, had been a delight to him. The passion that she hid was brought forth and he longed to see how passionate she could get in other circumstances. The way she had inhaled sharply at his fingertips sliding across her arm was just a hint…It was those reactions that gave him the confidence that she would give in and not enter the room with malicious intent.

He looked back at the bed and imagined her naked on it. Her pale and scarred skin flushing and slick with sweat. Her hands gripping the sheets as he licked a trail down her stomach to the place he wanted the most. Jaime’s body hardened as the daydream played out. He ran a hand down his stomach and palmed himself through the material of his pants. A deep groan ripped from his throat. He reached toward the strings of his breeches and pulled them enough to slip his hand inside. His body jerked in response and his eyes locked on the door… 

He pulled his hand away from his cock quickly at the sound of the door knob turning. A grin curled his lips and another wave of lust rushed through his veins. The wench had arrived. He walked swiftly over to the door, pulling it open…

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[](https://imgur.com/4Mgw5L9)

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She cursed herself. She cursed her traitorous body. The thoughts about what she was about to do ran through her mind and she could not deny the way it made her feel. She wondered if all women who used their bodies in such a way found their knees weak and their stomach clenching. Lady Mormont had told her what to do, but she doubted that the older woman thought she would be pushing her legs together with each step to relieve some of the ache between her thighs. Brienne wanted him and he knew it. He used his knowledge of her as a weapon. And now she was as well.

She held the metal door knob for a moment before releasing it and taking a step back. There was still time to return to the safety of her room. To reject this idea and find another way… She could have the guard lock her away. No one would know the Maiden of Tarth, in all her ugliness thought for a moment about bedding a King. Her hand reached out and she grasped the knob again. Maybe he was lying- maybe, just maybe, he was fast asleep with the lock slid into place. Brienne prayed two different prayers. One that the door was locked and she could die of embarrassment far away from the King's knowing smirk. The second was that the first prayer was not answered and he had left his door open so that he could relieve this ache between her legs.

Twisting the metal, she held her breath... it gave easily and she felt her heart sink and her blood flare. Snatching her hand back, she turned to rush across the hall when she felt a hand rest on her shoulder. She froze in place. Her heart pounded an erratic rhythm. His fingers caressed her shoulder, moving up to sweep her hair away from her neck. The heat of his body warmed her back and she sucked in a breath. 

“Did you lose your nerve, wench?” His lips grazed her throat with each word. “I thought you were braver than that...”

“I made a mistake, Your Grace,” she shook as he placed his hand on the slit in her dress. His long fingers danced along the bare skin. Her thigh quivered the closer he got to her core. “I should be going back to my chamber. I do not know what came over me.”

He helped her turn around to face him and she swallowed roughly. His shirt was removed and his pants were loosened. Her face flushed and she looked away. Everything suddenly became very real to her and her insides began to quake. How could someone that looked like him want _her_? There had to be something she was missing. 

“Come in, wench,” he whispered in a voice that caused more confusion. He traced the line of her arm down to her hand. “You know what you want. You know what I can give you.” He sounded so sure of her knowledge and that sent her reeling. _Did he really not know she was a maid? How could he…_ He pulled gently on her hand and she found herself moving into his chambers as if in a trance. The inside of the King’s room was spacious and yet completely dominated by a massive bed. She closed her eyes and dropped her head down before opening them back up. The index finger of his left hand curled under her chin and raised her head so that their eyes met again. Jaime watched her, saying nothing. She shifted from foot to foot, wishing she had never come over. “I will not hurt you.”

Her heart stopped at the sincerity of his tone. There was no mocking, no heat- or rather, less heat- and he continued to hold her hand. “I…” she felt her mind start to go blank. She didn’t know what to say. How could she seduce a King? How could she give herself to a man she barely knew and hated? How could she _want_ to? All at once she felt helpless and scared, like a child standing in front of a man. “I really did make an error. I cannot do this…”

She went to walk around him but stopped when he touched her again. His hand on hers moved up her arm, cupping her elbow, his thumb making circles in the hollow. “You cannot or you are scared you might enjoy it?”

“You have an idea in your head, Your Majesty.” She turned slowly toward him and was once again taken aback by his beauty. The firelight danced across his golden skin, creating shadows in daring places she had never really seen. The open laces of his breeches were causing her heart to skip and race and her mind to wander. She found herself thinking about the dark hair that formed a line and disappeared underneath. She licked her lips, “You think I know what to do but I do not. I am not going to make you happy. You really would be better if you call another whore for she will know how to please.”

_Listen to me,_ she pleaded in her head. _Stop this madness because I am not sure if I can._

Lady Maege’s words settled in her mind. _A man can be led by his cock. He just needs to believe he is in control. Men never realize how stupid they are until the knife is in their chest. Remember that. Women can make men bend like the winds bend trees._

Jaime took a step toward her and wrapped his free hand in her hair, holding her head gently but firmly. “Why don’t you let me decide what pleases your King?”

And with that he pulled her mouth to his.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/sg0XLbL)


	6. Sweet Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He kissed up her neck, his lips sliding over the skin, his tongue tasting the salt of her sweat gathering at the curve between her shoulder and throat. She tilted her head to the side, without words telling him where she wanted him. He moved with her, sucking at the pulse fluttering in her neck. Brienne moaned deep and loud. Jaime grinned at the sound. He brought his right hand up and slowly slid across her toward her breasts. She bowed forward, still not saying a word, but telling him all he needed to know. He traced circles on her hip with the thumb of his left hand, pressing in, pulling her close. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that commented on the last chapter. I promise I will reply to you all, but unfortunately right now I'm super busy. I hope you all are remaining healthy and safe. I have been working overtime at my job as I am deemed "essential". I work as a pharmacy tech and my life has been turned upside down by this pandemic. Please, I beg, give me a little more time and I will reply to every one of your wonderful comments. Please stay safe and I hope this will brighten your day a little.
> 
> Thank you to all my friends that have listened to me whine and complain about my overworked life. You have been my rock. Thank you to Merrymaya for being the best beta in the world. Thank you to Ro for the beautiful posters. And thank you to all the readers. You make my world much brighter!!!

[ ](https://imgur.com/B9OzXQB)

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Chapter 6: Sweet Seduction 

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_Present Day_  
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[ ](https://imgur.com/4Mgw5L9)

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He kissed up her neck, his lips sliding over the skin, his tongue tasting the salt of her sweat gathering at the curve between her shoulder and throat. She tilted her head to the side, without words telling him where she wanted him. He moved with her, sucking at the pulse fluttering in her neck. Brienne moaned deep and loud. Jaime grinned at the sound. He brought his right hand up and slowly slid across her toward her breasts. She bowed forward, still not saying a word, but telling him all he needed to know. He traced circles on her hip with the thumb of his left hand, pressing in, pulling her close.

Her ass settled against his cock and it was his turn to moan. He rolled his hips, enjoying the heat and the friction. Brienne’s hands moved, one coming to cup his neck and hold him to her, the other gripping his arm at her hip tightly. She turned her head and he captured her lips with his. The kiss was a little deeper and more thorough than the first one. He learned she was not experienced quickly enough. Her lips were stiff against his, her hands clenched at her sides. Jaime could feel her mind working, thinking of what to do and how to act. 

It was odd at first. How could one have fucked but not kissed…? Then he remembered his own time within the camps seeing other soldiers pull a whore into their arms without preamble and some of the times with Cersei. Kissing was a luxury some could not indulge. Sometimes it was just about getting pants down and skirt up, rough and hard and fast. Sometimes it was about the release and not the pleasure. So Jaime took his time with that first kiss. He taught her slowly how nice it was to have a mouth sucking on your lips, a tongue slipping in and out against yours. He moved his hands up and down her spine, tapping lightly at the bones of her back as his fingertips crawled across her skin. 

He knew he would enjoy the openings in her dresses. He thought it would be because it would cause her embarrassment and shame, but now- now he realized how wrong he was. He liked the way he could feel her body, the bumps of her scars, the smoothness of her skin, the surprisingly soft curves of her hips. Jaime dug his fingers into the flesh at her hip and she gasped out a moan. 

“You like that?” he bit at her bottom lip. “You like my hands on you.” Her breathing increased and her blunt nails on his neck scraped at the hair. “Yes,” he hissed, kissing her fully again. His tongue moved over hers, guiding her and pushing her to take a chance. Her movements were timid, but he could feel the eagerness begin to take hold. Brienne turned in his embrace, causing his right hand to graze her hard nipple. She subtly arched into the touch. Her hand near his on her hip moved to his side, curling around his body to hold him to her. “Yes, wench, touch me, fuck.”

“I do not know how,” she whispered. Her voice was husky and sexy and did things to him. “What do you want me to do…where should I touch you, Your Grace?”

Her shy response was such a difference from Cersei’s cool commands that he was thrown off. In all truth, he had never told any woman where to or how to touch him. His only lover, besides the whore he had called that one night, had been his sister. They had known each other, played with each other, felt each other their whole lives. Sex was just another step. Instead of dark corners with clothes on to keep them from being caught in their youth… it had become claws on skin and shifting of garments and lips pulling at exposed flesh and the corners became rooms to quickly hide in. Cersei had known that he was ticklish under his ribs and had never touched him there because he would laugh uncontrollably. He had known that she hated when he nibbled at her hip, she had told him that she did not like him treating her like a bone used to be gnawed on. 

There had never been a learning curve with them. It was legs spread, cock out, minimal work to _get_ worked up and then fuck. Now that Brienne was asking him, he had to think… where did he want to be touched? He grabbed her hand and slid it across his chest over his pectoral muscles. Her fingers naturally bent over his hand and her nails caught his nipple. He groaned, “Do that again wench.”

Her blue eyes flashed and she did it again with purpose. Her plump lips parted and her tongue came out to wet them further. He could not resist and took the back of her head in his now free hand and pulled her into another kiss. This one had no finesse. It was pure need and red hot desire. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, in and out, showing her how he would be using his cock later. Brienne responded to the assault, finding the dance quickly. The fire of the kiss melting the last of the ice between them. 

Jaime pulled at the string holding her dress together and she paused suddenly in the kiss. Her lips went stiff again and she started to pull away. He let her put a little distance between them, but kept their lower bodies pressed together. Her endless sapphire eyes were hazy with lust but the faint hint of fear played along the edges. The undercurrent of panic cooled his fervor a little. She took several deep breaths and reached behind her to finish with the tie herself. The top loosened but did not give way, the laces of the bodice still too tight for that. 

She swallowed and looked away from him as she continued to work at her back. He stopped her with his hands on hers. Brienne’s gaze slowly returned to his. This time lust was warring with fear and determination. “You have gone cold,” he said using one of his hand to pry hers away from the strings. 

“I have told you more than once, Your Grace, I do not know how to do this.” Her cheeks flushed and she closed her eyes. “You have a notion about me, a false one. I have lived with men, fought with them, ate and laughed with them- but no man has…” She shook her head. “Why do you believe that anyone would touch me without harmful intent?”

“Men enjoy sex,” he said simply. “Battle breeds desire. You are a woman with power. Men want to tame the powerful. It makes them feel invincible.”

“Is that what this is to you?” she snarled, anger flaring. “Is that what I am? Something to be tamed? An animal? I have been called an auroch and monster. A beast by more than one. Is that what you see as well, _My King_?” The words were harsh and spoken with force but he saw beneath that. Her hands shook and her chin wobbled a little. She was hurt and fighting to hide it. She had been the base of japes and he wondered how many were about her appeal. Many he was quick to assume. 

Jaime knew he could smirk and press her anger. He could take her in his arms and bend her to his will- because of his right as King and as a man, but the distaste that left in his mouth was acid. He did not have many things people could say about him positively, but he had one- he would not rape or force a woman into his bed. That was not what this was about. This was about want and fucking. 

“What do I see?” He let his eyes drop and trace her body. “I see a woman with steel in her blood. I see freckles I want to use my tongue on… can I connect them all? Where do they start and stop?” He heard her gasp and watched a flush creep across her skin. “I see scars from years of battle that I want to feel under my hands. I see legs that were meant to be wrapped around my waist as I push my hard cock into your wet cunt.” She started shaking a little. “I want to have you pant and scream with desire.” His eyes returned to hers and he saw the flaring of need was back. “I want to watch as you break under me and beg me not to stop. I want my tongue in your cunt, tasting your honey, honey you’ve made for me.” She swayed a little on her feet. “I want your lips wrapped around my cock while you look up at me with wanton eyes.” She licked her lips. “Do I want to tame you, wench? Fuck yes I do! But I want you to be willing to be tamed.” Brienne panted as if she had been in a battle, sweat gathered along her collarbone. “Now what do you want, wench?”

She hesitated then reached behind herself again. “I want to hate you.” She pulled roughly at the laces. “I do hate you. I hate everything about you. But…” she swallowed. “Hate is not all I feel. I do not understand what is happening. I do not know why I… I…”

“Ache,” he supplied, smirking slightly. “You ache for me. For my cock.”

“Yes,” she hissed through her teeth. Her face flamed again. Shame and sexual need battling inside of her. “Yes, I want you. I hate you and I want you. And I hate myself for wanting you.”

“You do not have to like me,” he went back to help her remove her dress. “To want me. In fact, it can be better if you only feel the need to fuck. And you feel that need, don’t you?” He yanked hard and heard the seam of her dress rip. Her mouth opened in a perfect oval shape at the sound and he grinned, pulling harder. Pieces of the expensive silk fell into his hands and more of her skin was exposed. He leaned close to her, his lips almost touching hers. “Give in, wench. Stop fighting it. There is no point. I can smell your juices. I am sure they are sweet and I bet they will flood my mouth when I finally taste you.”

Her eyes darkened and her pupils blew wide. She took a half of a step toward him so that they were chest to chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. He grinned at the realization she was about to kiss him. The first barrier crossed. Her mouth crashed into his, teeth and tongue and fight. It was a duel for control and he relished it. He walked them back toward the bed, sitting once his knees hit the mattress. He pulled her between his legs, his hands working harder and harder at the seams and laces of her dress. Soon he felt the material fully give away and detached his mouth from hers so he could watch the silk fall around her ankles.

Brienne removed her arms from him and went to cross them over her chest. He did not give her the chance and pulled her until she was on him. Her breath caught and she shook her head. “I’m too heavy,” she panted. “You do not want-”

Jaime responded by pulling her hard, forcing her legs to settle on either side of his hips and grabbed her ass over her smallclothes. “Do not tell me, your King, about what I want,” he growled into her ear, rolling his hips against her hot center.

Her nails dug into his shoulders and she shook her head even as she jerked against him. “I am big and too heavy. You cannot be comfortable with me on top of you.”

“Oh, but wench,” he squeezed her ass and grinned up at her. “I am more than strong enough, but if you insist…” He lifted them both quickly and spun around so she was flat on her back on the bed looking up at him. He rocked his hips into hers. The clothes between them adding to the friction, to the pain, to the pleasure. “Yes, this is much better!”

Moans and gasps mixed together as he dipped down and sucked her nipple into his mouth. The skin was salty with sweat and he lapped up the drips, holding them on his tongue. He rolled her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her body shifted and rolled and moved against him. Back arching, hands clamping down on his arm, sliding across his back, pulling him closer, holding him tighter. He moved down her body, his mouth and hands never stopping. Jaime listened closely to each sound the wench made while he kissed, licked, and caressed her body. What made her sigh, what made her gasp, what made her moan, what made her plead for more. 

“Oh Gods,” she hissed once he reached her wet core. The scent of her was making his mouth water. He could not wait any longer and tasted her though her smallclothes. His tongue flattened over her cunt and she let out a howl of pleasure. He grinned against the moist material and repeated the action several times, just to hear her exclamations of pleasure. Her body shook and her hand rested against his head, cupping the back lightly. He looked up at her and noticed she had her eyes closed tightly. Her broad face was the reddest he had seen. Her crooked teeth were biting so hard into her bottom lip, blood bloomed under them. Jaime moved back up her body and hovered over her. She opened her eyes back up, looking deeply into his. The unsure expression reached out and grabbed him. Her words from before came back. He leaned down slowly, never breaking eye contact with her. “What…”

He swallowed her question with a leisurely kiss. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, letting her taste herself on his lips. He knew it was faint, the flavor of her sweetness, but he wanted her to be present with him. He wanted her to know what her body had made. He felt her hesitation in the kiss again, probably overthinking where his mouth had just been, but like the rising tide, she warmed up. The soft kiss became hard and heated. The sounds they made were stronger. Her left hand drifted over him with timid movements. Up and down, tracing one muscle then another. Her touch never went too far though. It never reached where he wanted her hands to go. The movements were shy and testing- like someone who had never- 

Jaime pulled back suddenly and looked down at her. She pulled her hands from his body and crossed her arms over her chest. Doubt gathered in her features and she wiggled out from under him as far as he would let her go- which was not far. He was lost in his own mind, thinking over everything. Her insistence that she did not know how to fuck, the stiffness of her kiss, the way she reacted to each new thing they did, how her hands never strayed from his upper body even though he told her he wanted her touch… He leaned further away from her. 

“Your Majesty,” her eyes were shining in the faint light of the fire and candles. “Have you changed your mind?” Brienne looked away, her flush fading into paleness. “Or if you still want to fuck, we can blow out some of the candles… darkness may make it-”

He took her chin in his hand, turning her face toward him and stopped her words with his mouth. Her arms around her body started to fall away and she opened herself up to him. “I want to see you, wench,” he whispered. 

“Why?”

One single word. He wondered what happened to her to make her see no value in how the Warrior made her. Ugly women have been married and lived complete lives- not always easy ones, but then that applied to the beautiful as well. “I have told you already. Do I need to repeat myself? I want to fuck _you_. If I wished to blow out the candles and push my cock into just any cunt I would not be with you. I would call for another whore.”

“You must understand why I find that hard to believe,” she hedged. “You are the King and can have any Lady, but you choose me… one without a title or beauty?”

“Beauty is fleeting,” he commented.

“And yet one of the most beautiful woman ever known hangs above your fireplace,” she returned. “Why does your sister stare down upon us?”

Bitterness swelled inside of him. He did not want to think of Cersei while half nude with the wench. The only thought he wanted of Cersei was her raging at him from the Seven Hells that he took another to his bed. “Do you really wish to speak about my sister while only in your smallclothes under me? Come now, wench, you must know there are more interesting ways to use your mouth that have nothing to do with talking.”

“I have knowledge of such acts, but have never experienced them, as you know,” she whispered. “Even if you do not believe that to be the truth.”

The tension between them changed. There was still the heat of lust but mixed in was the distrust on both sides. Jaime knew that they were close to stopping if they did not correct the course this ship was headed on. Fucking her was not supposed to be anything other than fucking. He took a deep breath and leaned forward again. She watched him as he angled his head down and began to kiss the side of her neck. Her hands lifted and rested on his chest. Her fingers slipped through the hair and across his nipples, making him shiver. 

Jaime felt her pulse quicken under his lips. His teeth scraped her vein and she moaned deeply when he lightly bit down. A grinned formed and he raised his head. Her eyes slowly opened, the bright blue mere rings around endless black. He hooked his thumbs into the waistline of her smallclothes and moved down her body. He bit at her muscles, licked at the dip in her waist, blew on the sweat coating her skin. Each thing he did caused a new reaction. He marveled at how responsive she was without much work. She jumped and arched, moaned and grunted. 

He landed on the floor, her smallclothes in his hand and looked down at her. His imagination of what she looked like under those clothes did not do her justice. His eyes feasted on the muscles of her stomach, the paleness of her skin, the freckles that dotted every portion of her… Her legs were strong, her thighs thick, he licked his lips. She shook under his gaze, arms coming up to cover herself and she turned her head away.

“Do you have to stare?” She whispered.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I need to see you. You have haunted my thoughts, wench.” She bit her lip, her cheeks the color of his sigil. Jaime dropped the small piece of clothing to the ground and slid his hand up her legs. She flexed and trembled, sucking in air through her teeth and releasing it slowly. “Gods, you are strong everywhere,” his voice was hushed and husky. He lifted her right leg and she tensed. Her body went stiff as the dead. He rubbed her muscles to relax her and kissed the inside of her ankle. His tongue flicked out to follow the curve of her bone. She jerked, nearly knocking him in the head with her foot. “Easy,” he told her, his mouth continuing to move up her leg toward her knee. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled and then quickly added. “Your Grace.”

He placed open-mouthed kisses along her inner thigh, sucking the flesh into his mouth. He made sure that there would be evidence of him on her skin. The pleasure of seeing the burgeoning bruises on her hips in the perfect shape of his fingers and now the love bites on her legs was like being drunk. He wanted more of the feeling and kept adding to his collection. She relaxed under his manipulations. Her eyes never quite leaving his, but the lids got heavy and half-lidded. Jaime continued to move closer to where he desired to be, the scent of her passions setting his own flaring inside of him. He pressed his pelvis closer to the mattress to add much-needed friction and blew on her core. Brienne’s eyes opened wide and she jumped.

“No,” her voice shook. “You cannot want… I…”

“Why would I not want to taste you?” He caressed the muscles of her thighs again to release the tension that began to creep back in. “I have told you I want your honey on my tongue, did you believe your King to be a liar?”

Confusion settled on her face, “I know that is what you said, but… Why would you not want to just receive your pleasure and send me away?” His stomach clenched. “That is what men do is it not? Women are not meant to enjoy the act of coupling…” 

Suddenly he could not deny it any longer. She was a maid. A true one. She had no knowledge of what it was to fuck and be fucked. Or her experience had not been a great one… He eased her legs back down and leaned over her. She would not meet his gaze. “Look at me,” he whispered. Slowly her blue eyes returned to him and he sighed. “Tonight is not going as I had planned. You are not what I had planned,” she flinched and he softly touched her cheek. “That does not mean I will not fuck you, because I will. I want this, maybe more than before, but I will not take only my pleasure. Women are not holes to be filled and anyone that thinks that way is worse than fucking shit.” She tilted her head. “I know you do not trust me and I do not trust you, but tonight you will see that pleasure can be felt by both man and woman.”

There was still unease in her expression but now curiosity and lust were vying for position. He carded his fingertips of his right hand through the wiry hair covering her most intimate part. She inhaled sharply but didn’t move away from him. He slipped a finger in and was relieved that she was moist, not as wet as she would need to be to enjoy what they were going to do but he would remedy that. Jaime began to slowly thrust his digit inside of her. Brienne stayed still beneath him, but the signs of her arousal were there. The slickness of her walls increased and her breathing became heavier. She bit at her bottom lip and her hips moved softly with him. 

He pressed his lips to hers in a hard kiss. She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding his head to her. He added another finger and she stiffened again. Jaime moved his left hand up to cup her small breast, playing with her nipple as his thumb brushed over her sensitive clit to get her to relax a little. She gasped out a moan and kissed him more deeply. He couldn’t suppress his grin this time. Brienne moved more urgently against his hand, rising up to meet his thrusts with some of her own. He increased the speed of his fingers, curling them up on each inward stroke. 

She pulled her mouth from his and bit her lip hard again. He watched the sweat gather at the base of her throat and leaned down to lick some of it from her skin. He continued down her body, never stopping the movement of his fingers within her. He kissed and nipped at her, paying special attention to her breasts when he was eye level with them. Her rosy pink nipples looked like delicious pieces of fruit he wanted to devour. He sucked her entire right breast into his mouth, flattening his tongue against her areolas. Her body arched off the bed and some of her juices leaked over his hand. Her inner walls were beginning to spasm and he quickly removed his fingers. 

Brienne let out a moan of disappointment. He reveled in the sound. She wanted him- that much he knew- but hearing the evidence was intoxicating. Jaime slid the rest of the way down her body to her wet curls. He blew against them before using his fingers to open her and tasting her with his tongue. She jumped and gripped his head with one hand while the other covered her mouth. He pinched her ass gently and she removed the hand quickly to glare at him. He grinned mischievously at her before he returned to the feast in front of him.

He licked her slowly, up and down, never going in too far… not yet. She was sweet and salty. He loved the flavor and searched it out, wanting more, wanting it all. Brienne rocked her hips up toward his mouth, silently urging him to do more. Her shyness was fading in the waves of her desire. She wanted to know what it felt like and he wanted to be the one to help her learn. He snaked his tongue between her swollen lips and lapped at her.

“Oh. Oh Gods,” she broke the silence around them with her words. Yes, he wanted more. He wanted her to talk and be heard. He had never gotten the chance to hear how he made a woman feel and he desperately wanted to hear Brienne. He angled his head up, closing his lips around her clit. Her hand in his hair tightened and her hips rose sharply. “Oh GODS!”

Jaime sucked at the nub hard and returned his fingers to her core. The added sensation was almost too much but not quite enough. He was determined to make her fall apart with his mouth and added a third finger inside her. Brienne cried out, holding back. 

“Wench,” he lifted his head only briefly to command her, “let go. Give your King the prize I so richly deserve. Give me what I want. I want you to scream and reach your peak for me.” 

His mouth was back on her again. Licking and sucking, pushing her further and further. As his fingers moved deeply inside of her, the tighter it got. Any lingering doubts about her maiden status were wiped away and his pride at being the first grew. Brienne stilled in his arms then the shaking began. Ripping through her like waves crashing against the shore. Her essence flooded his hand and he moved his mouth to try and capture all the sweetness she granted him. Her moans were loud, echoing off the walls. Jaime smiled with pride. The roaring lioness was released and all close heard her calling out her pleasure. 

Her body fell back against the mattress as the last of her peak worked through her. She looked up at him and touched his mouth with her thumb. He kept his eyes on hers and brought his fingers up to his mouth, slowly sucking her essence from them. She inhaled sharply at the act. Brienne opened her mouth to speak but he stopped the words with a forceful kiss. Their tongues tangled together in a dirty, sloppy kiss. He pulled her up to a sitting position and yanked her to the end of the bed. His aching cock was pulsing with the need to be buried deeply inside her. Her hands slid down his sides slowly toward his pants, and he had to pull away from her to laugh at the light touch around his ribs. She arched her eyebrow at him and smiled bemusedly. 

She didn’t stop to test what his response meant. Her hands turned eager on his body. “Do you,” she licked her lips and looked down at his throbbing staff straining against his pants. “I can try… to do… I can…” she palmed his cock, flexing her hand when he jerked his hips. Brienne yanked at the strings and pushed his breeches over his ass and down his legs. She sucked in a breath at his bare body. He moved away from her to kick the offending clothing from his body. She reached out to touch him then pulled her hand back. “I do not know much… anything… but I know that soldiers like when whores,” she paused flushing deeply. “Would you like me to take you in my mouth?” she rushed the words out before she could stop herself.

His cock jerked at the thought of her warm mouth swallowing it whole. Oh Gods, yes he wanted that. He wanted to hold her head and fuck her mouth. But not now. He wanted to be inside that strong body more. He wanted to take her and make her feel good again. He wanted to own her innocence. He walked back over to her and crawled up her body as she scooted back on the bed. 

“I want your mouth everywhere,” he said in a husky, silky voice. “I want you to have all your firsts with me.” Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Yes, I know you are a maiden. Tonight you will not be one any longer. I will be your first. You will be _mine_, wench. My cock will be the first one between your legs.” Her breathing increased again. Her body began to flush. She was hot, making him sweat more than before. He laid down on top of her, nose to nose, lips to lips. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want my cock. I need to hear the words, wench.”

Brienne swallowed, hesitating, then reached down between them to hold his shaft, stroking the flesh with unsure hands. He groaned, thrusting into her fist. A flash of power lit up her eyes at his response and she nodded. “I should not want this. I will be called a whore and I will be one. But…” She firmed up her hold on him and spread her legs. “I do not care. I might hate myself as I have hated you, but do not stop… please.”

He guided his cock to her entrance with her hand still on him. He sucked in a breath as the heat started to envelop him. Tight and hot. Fuck! “No one will call you a whore in front of me,” his voice was strained and sounded like a growl. He held himself still when he was inside her. “You are my wench! Fuck the rest.” 

He started thrusting into her with shallow movements, letting her body get used to being invaded. She was tense, shaking, her eyes wide. The tightness of her muscles started to relax as he caressed her, kissed her, whispered how good she felt, played with her nipples. Her moans of discomfort shifted to ones of need. She curled her hands around his arms, nails digging into his upper shoulders. Her long and strong legs cradled his body, which made him slip into her hot cunt a little further. Soon he was bumping repeatedly into her maidenhead. He stopped moving and held her gaze. She bit her lip, breathing deeply.

“This will hurt,” he said honestly. “But the pain will ease. I will make sure you will only scream once in agony…” he bit her lip, pulling on it gently with his teeth. “The rest of your screams will be about begging for more.”

A playful smirk graced her large lips, his cock swelled at the look. “Do you promise, _ My King_?”

The sass of her words made him growl and grab her hips. “I do wench.” He snapped his hips and finally took her innocence. 

She turned her head, covering her mouth with her hand, biting the heel to muffle her scream. A single tear fell from the corner of her eye, slipping over the broken bridge of her nose. Jaime felt horrible for not believing she was a maiden. He looked down at where their bodies were joined. They were like a key and a lock, perfectly fit together. It was heady to be surrounded by her warmth. It was like drowning in fire, he was burning in the best way. Jaime wanted to move. He wanted to push into her over and over again. He wanted to know all that made her moan and pant, but she was not ready for that... 

Brienne turned her head back to him and he saw the shine of her eyes. He wiped at the track the tear left. She started to lift her hips, grimacing with each roll. He held her still. “Relax, wench,” she stared at him with pain and nerves in her gaze. He kissed her nose, her cheeks and finally her lips. “We have all night and trust this, I am not leaving until we are both limp from exhaustion.”

He continued to kiss and touch, to slide his palms over skin, to croon words of encouragement. When his thumbs brushed her nipples and his hands fondled her breasts, she moaned long and deep. Her body started to ease and she let her searching hands slide down his back to the curve of his ass. He followed her cues and began to move. It was an incredible feeling being inside her. He refused to rush this moment. There would be plenty of time to fuck her hard and fast. 

Because this feeling, the sensation of being buried in her body, was one he could come to crave. Brienne jerked her hips into his, urging him to take her. Jaime longed to prolong the night but he would not deny the wench her own desires. He gripped her legs and picked up the speed. The sound of skin slapping skin, the mingling of grunt, groans, pants and gasps, the crackling of the fire behind them. It was all pushing him forward. 

She lifted her head to kiss his chest, biting lightly when he nudged that special spot inside her. “Fuck,” she hissed, digging her nails into his back. “Fuck…”

“You like that wench?” he asked working hard to get that reaction from her again. The slight pain added to his pleasure. He loved the feel of her teeth against his skin, the pull of her nails. She always tried to stay so reserved while in his presence- prisoner and keeper- the flashes of passion he saw in her while they fought were just the tip of the mountain. She was fire and ice and he sought after it all. She bent her head back and purred as he hit that spot again. Her legs clamped around him and she met him thrust for thrust. “Yes, you like it. Isn’t that right?” She arched up as he pushed hard and faster into her willing body. “You want my cock buried inside of you. Fuck!” He called out as the walls of her core started tightening around him. “Fuck, yes!”

“Please,” she pleaded. “Please…” He reached between them and found that sensitive bud at the top of her cunt. “Oh Gods! Yes… Oh, what is happening?”

“Let go, wench,” he urged. “Let go! Take your pleasure. Take it, own it. Use my cock.”

She shook and screamed out, her voice broken and raw. She rolled her hips hard against him, setting a punishing pace. He rose up on his knees and yanked her into his lap, keeping the harder fucking going. Brienne kissed him hard as her peak started to build. It was a frenzy of moving bodies reaching for the euphoria of orgasm. 

Brienne placed her forehead on his shoulder, smothering her screaming pleas in his skin. The words of need vibrated through him, bringing his own peak closer. He reached between them and pinched her clit. He would not climax before making the wench come on his prick. She threw her head and went still against him. Her cunt gripped his cock in a vise, rippling and massaging and milking him. He dug his fingers into her ass and thrust wildly inside of her. His cock swelling, his balls tightening. 

Then all at once, all he saw was white. He spilled his seed within her. His breathing was rough as he panted into her chest. She caressed his back as they both came back to themselves. Jaime raised his head and kissed her slowly. She responded to his kiss and they fell back against the mattress in a tangle of limbs.

*****************

[](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

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She curled onto her side, her back to him as she let the reality of what just happened sink in. The flash of desire had burned away and all she was left with was emptiness. Her body ached in places she had never given thought to, except during her moon’s blood… Her eyes opened wide and her stomach rolled violently, to the point she thought that she would vomit right there in the King’s bed. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and thoughts were rushing through her mind. Oh Gods! She had forgotten- one of the first lessons the Mormonts had taught her- always be prepared for what could happen after.

Her hands began to shake and her body broke out in a cold sweat. How could she be so stupid! She extracted herself from his arms. His warmth was making her feel worse. She needed to escape. She needed to think. She knew this was not the right path! Oh Gods! Mother, please! The Maiden, I am sorry… 

“Where are you going?” The King asked from behind her. His voice heavy with sleep and the lust from earlier. His hand trailed down her back, making her both shiver and recoil. “Wench, are you leaving so soon?”

_Yes!_ she exclaimed in her head. _I should never have come._ Her face flamed when she looked down at her thighs. Patches of red, smears of blood. She stood from the bed and tried to gather her clothes, finding more pieces than anything. “I should be getting back to my chambers,” she whispered but it was loud enough to be heard. “There will be talk. We know this, but I would rather not be caught in your bed by some innocent,” she nearly choked on the word- mere moments ago she had been such an innocent. “page or maid.” 

She turned back to him and swallowed. He was lounging on his side. Content as a cat, his eyes were heavy-lidded and his lips were parted slightly. His hair was a mess from her hands pulling at the strands while they had coupled, and his chest had a bite on it… her crooked teeth had marred his flesh. Her eyes traveled the length of his body, taking in the man who had taken her maidenhead. He was beautiful. She could not deny that. It was obvious. His muscles were present under the tempting golden skin and she had to curl her hands into fists not to want to touch him all over again. Her sapphire orbs caught sight of his manhood and her gaze shifted quickly to the floor.

“Come now, wench,” he purred to her. “Do not stop looking now. I have not stopped looking at you…” She swallowed and fidgeted, bringing the scraps of clothes up to cover what she could. “Hiding will do no good. For I have seen you… and I will see you again.”

The thought of how much he had seen made her cheeks color more. She kept her eyes averted and tried to think. She had messed up. She had gone about this the wrong way. Brienne had not done as she should have and now… what would happen? She shook her head, anger riding high in her body. She should never have done this. She was better with a sword and shield. 

Grabbing her smallclothes from the floor, she slipped them on quickly. Her movements were stiff as she covered herself. Fire of a different kind set her skin ablaze. Stupid girl! That’s what she was. A stupid fucking girl. She turned back to the man on the bed once she was as clothed as she could get.

“We have seen each other, Your Grace,” she said with ice in her voice. She should have found another way. She could have found another way! “I have given you what you wanted and I now ask that you let me return to my chambers. I am very tired and would like to sleep.”

He sat up, his expression hardening. “You act as if you did not walk in here of your own choice, wench. You act as if I made you give up your maidenhead. I seem to recall our fucking,” she winced at the word, “differently than you.”

“I remember it quite well,” she said, her words controlled as her stomach rolled. “The proof of what we have done is on the sheets and on my skin. Maidenblood is all that’s left. I know what I have done. I know you did not force me to lay upon your bed, but you are a King and I am merely a _guest_ in your castle. Would you have been so kind to me if I had refused you so strongly?”

His green eyes darkened, “If you had refused, it would have been done.” He climbed up from the bed, completely comfortable with his naked body and walked toward her. She straightened her spine and refused to move, even as her knees started to quake. “I do not take what is not mine to have.”

“As King,” Brienne reminded him. “All is yours to have.”

“Yes,” he licked his lips and slowly moved his eyes down her body. “So, I will have you again.” He pressed up against her. Her resolve not to move started to crumble. She gathered strength from the rage that was still in her heart. She used the emotion as a shield and met his eyes without falter. His lips curled into a smirk. “There she is. The wench that was defiant on the floor of my throne room. I wondered where she had gone.”

“She has always been here, Your Grace,” she snapped. “I have not lost my feelings for your rule or _you_ just because I have done something I never thought I would.”

“Fucking is natural,” he commented as he brushed her hair back from her shoulder. She tried not to lean into his touch, but her body betrayed her and she shifted a little in his direction. “As I have said before, I do not care if you like me, wench, that isn’t the point. I only care that you spread those long legs for me willingly.”

“Does it not bother you at all that you have laid with someone that wishes you dead,” she cursed her tongue for those words but could not leave them unspoken. She did wish him dead. She hated him. But now she was beginning to hate herself a little more. Even as she snarled at him and spoke of her desire to see him as food for the crows, she felt her core ache. She still wanted him. What was wrong with _her_? “What we did was soulless and empty. I have always known my first time with a man would be cold, but I would have thought a king would want more.”

He laughed. “This is not about love, wench. Love is for silly maidens that do not know the truth about life.” There was a bitterness in his words that felt too raw to just be for her benefit. It felt like his experience was bleeding in and making him cold. “I could easily find a woman to bed, one with false intentions and motives that are frivolous. Those women are painted and perfumed, fake from the start. Or, wench, I could have you that wears her intentions like a coat of armor. We both know where we are and why we are here.” He touched her hip and she pressed her lips together. “I am much more comfortable knowing the game before I play.”

Taking a step back, she eyed him carefully. “A game? Is that what we are doing? Having sex for sport?”

“Life is a sport, my wench,” he smirked. “Did you not understand that? You enter the arena each day with new competitors.” He walked around her toward the table with a flagon of wine and two goblets. He grabbed the pitcher of water instead. Pouring the liquid into two glasses, he handed her one. It was only then that she realized how parched she was. She accepted the cup and drank from it deeply as she thought about his words. “I have always known your intention. I have never feared the cold hand of the Stranger and I know he will come for me eventually- maybe by your strong hand or another- but I plan to enjoy you while you are in my castle.”

“A soldier’s life,” she commented, tapping her fingertips against the rim. “You are always prepared for the end because it could come to meet you at any time. I admire that in you because I feel the same.” She took another sip, thinking. She knew that if she stayed, she would find herself under him again. This dark pull between them was building up again and she needed to leave and prepare. She needed to get moon tea and be smarter from here on out. He had made his intentions clear. He wanted to fuck her again and as much as it made her sick inside, she would not be completely unwilling. Their coupling had been surprising to her because she had found pleasure with him between her legs. Beyond everything else, that’s the part that worried her. She found pleasure with a man she loathed and wanted dead. “Death comes for all men.”

“It does,” she jumped at how close he was. She did not realize he had moved. “Are you ready to play, wench?”

She met his eyes, “I wish to sleep in my chambers, Your Majesty. We have coupled as you wanted,” she stopped and said begrudgingly. “And as I did. Now I wish to clean myself and sleep. Do you not also wish to rest? Are you not tired from… what we have done?”

“Was once enough for you, wench?” He asked while eyeing her with hunger in his gaze. She could not help but notice the way his body looked, and she felt the rising tide of desire swell. She began to feel anxious at the way she was so easily being pulled under the haze of passion. She needed to get away. She needed to rebuild those walls that had taken her years to make back in place. “I was hoping for another taste of your sweetness.”

“I did not agree to sleep in your chambers, Your Grace,” she snapped. “I have only agreed to lay with you this night…”

“Oh, my wench,” his hand grazed her hip through her torn clothes. “Do not lie to me. I have told you, you do not do it well. This will happen again. This will happen often. You will come to crave my cock inside you, moving and giving you pleasure as I have this night.” He licked his lips and she watched the flick of his tongue. “I can still taste you,” he moved his fingers closer to her core and she began to tremble. The heat of her anger was now in combat with the flame of her desire. The tip of his thumb brushed her core, pressing in and she flinched as discomfort pulsed through her. She gasped sharply and Jaime pulled his hand back to rest on her hip. “Wench?”

Brienne took a step back. “I need to leave, My King,” she quickly walked around him and left before he could react. 

Her steps slowed as she walked toward her chambers. She felt the soreness start to throb more intensely and she just wanted to clean up before curling on her bed to think about everything. As soon as she entered the room, she pushed the lock into place and moved over to the basin in the corner. Her hands shook as she pushed a clean cloth into the water, wringing it out and gently sliding it between her thighs. The closer she got to her center, the more the ache throbbed. In all the thoughts of how it would feel to lose her maidenhead, she never thought about this. How she would ache in a different way.

All her fears had been around the act, the brutality of what could take place. She never imagined what it would feel like once the act was complete. She placed the once white but now tinted pink- cloth back in the basin and moved to the wardrobe containing her nightshifts. Brienne pulled her torn and tattered dress from her body and left the remains on the floor. 

The night gown slid over her form and she breathed a sigh of contentment. She was not as covered as she would like but compared to the dress that now lay in a pile on the ground, she felt as if she were back in her armor. She moved over to the bed, sitting on the very edge. Her mind was a cyclone of thoughts, swirling and grabbing and pulling her down. Brienne closed her eyes and inhaled deeply a few times. She had to focus. She had to take measures, one step at a time. First on the list would be moon tea… her insides clenched. How did she get that? Who should she ask… no matter who it was, judgment would follow. 

It would not take long for rumors to spread and she would be labeled a whore. She dropped her head to her hands. All those lessons the Mormonts had taught, the reasons for them, came back in a flash and with each word she realized how far she had strayed from the path. 

_“Men are simple,” Lady Mormont said with a dismissive hand. “Once one smells the scent of a woman, it is mere moments before they are wondering about how to get their cocks in her.”_

_“I fear,” Brienne started, looking around the darkened room to avoid these women’s eyes. Her face felt like it was flaming. “That men do not think of me in that manner.”_

_“Horse shit!” Lady Mormont snapped. “You have a cunt between your legs. Men want that. It is why they fight and why they live. Fucking is what keeps a man from dying upon his sword.” Brienne looked at her briefly, her body recoiling from the tone and the words. She was not so naïve that she had never heard them spoken but rarely had they been said **to her** in this way. She had lived her life in the shadows until coming to Winterfell. She came to this place to learn and train and prepare. This lesson was not going to help her. “You are quite the innocent, Lady Brienne, but one day that innocence may be challenged, and you will have to decide how to live. Taking a man between your legs is not the worst way to achieve that.”_

_“You need to know that men will try,” Dacey said, taking the place of her mother in Brienne’s field of vision. “You need to be smart and use your gifts to your advantage.”_

_“What gifts?” Brienne was getting more and more uncomfortable with this topic. “I am a fighter. I have not the face of the Maiden, nor the body of a Mother. I was have the build of a man and that is how men see me. Ugly and large. These are not traits others find desirable.”_

_“And yet we still need to prepare you,” Dacey waved her hand in the same dismissive way that Lady Mormont used moments before. “You need to always be aware and, as I have stated, smart. You always need to be able to acquire moon tea. This is a necessary truth. Men can fuck with only the concern of coming away with an itch on their balls. Women can come away with a bastard in their bellies.” Brienne blanched. “Next, always have your weapon available. In a boot or a fold of your clothes. When it’s time to kill, you need to take it.” Dacey stepped forward and touched Brienne’s shoulder, causing her to flinch a little. “A quick stab under the ribs or to the thigh while a man grunts over you is enough. It is not pleasant, but it will be the easiest time. Best not to be naked as well. Men do not really care to see the body of an easy fuck; they just want the wet cunt under the clothes.”_

_“We are trying to get you to understand,” Lady Mormont took control again. “Men, especially cocky sons of bitches, will see you as something to conquer when they know who you fight for or against. Do not wilt in the face of this. Stab them while they stab you and walk away…”_

She moved onto the bed and pulled a fur blanket from the bottom to cover herself. She held onto the fur, tucking it under her chin. She wanted to sleep. She called upon it, but all she could do was think. Her mind playing with her. Images of her father’s disappointed face, her brother’s scowl, her septa’s quick temper. She had conversations and arguments with herself. How could she have done something like this? Her maidenhead should not have been a tool to get close to the King. It was supposed to mean more than that…

Was she not supposed to mean more than that? The night transitioned to morning and sleep had been elusive once again. Her heart hurt, her body ached, and she was still no closer to knowing what to do next. A knock at the door caused her to spring up with more energy than she thought she had. The knob twisted and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

“MiLady,” Pia’s voice called out. “Are you ill?”

She lifted herself completely from the bed and walked over to the door, opening it for the handmaiden. Her eyes shifted to the two guards standing behind the young woman. Could they tell what she had done? Was her crime written upon her skin in Lannister red? She stepped back and Pia moved in. The young woman closed the door on the guards and Brienne walked back to the bed with jerky movements.

“Are ya alright?” Pia asked with concern.

She nodded and turned to face the other woman. “Just a little stiff. My muscles are sore and tight this morn.” Brienne eased to the bed and noticed Pia’s eyes shifting around the room. Her gaze landing on the dress on the floor and the pinkish water in the basin. Her rich brown eyes came back to her blue ones. There was understanding in them, but no judgment. The young girl said nothing. She did not smirk or give her a reason to feel uncomfortable. “The dress is ruined, I believe,” she mumbled.

Pia dipped her head in a nod and walked over to the dress. “I ask that Milady ‘cuse me,” she took the silks in hand and stood again. “I’ve forgotten to bring ya sum tea and food to break yer fast. Please forgive me.”

Brienne opened her mouth but was met with the door opening and closing before she could respond. Her insides clenched… had she been wrong about Pia? More worries weighed on her as she thought of the gossiping girls and giggling boys. The panic was reaching a pinnacle when the door opened one more time with Pia standing there holding a tray with a few items on top. She moved to the table near the bed and placed the tray on it carefully. The brown-haired girl handed Brienne a cup of steaming liquid.

“Be careful, Milady,” she warned. “It’s hot and won’t taste ‘ery good. But it will help with what ails ya. Later I can show ya to the baths. If ya want to bathe in the tubs, Milady.”

Brienne swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, “Thank you, Pia.”

The young woman didn’t say anything else… neither did Brienne.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/H5mE4cn)

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[ ](https://imgur.com/sg0XLbL)


	7. The Morn After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Sept was quiet. All sound seemed to be sucked out of the room, leaving only the dead to be heard. Cersei lay on the slab of stone, dressed in the deepest of red gowns, with a lion pendant in her folded hands. Her body was still, her once golden skin was now tinted blue. Her bright blonde hair fell in waves across her shoulders. Her lips had been painted with a light red._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that read the last chapter. I'm so sorry it's been so long. I really hope you like this chapter. Please let me know your thoughts. I always enjoy reading them!
> 
> Thank you to all my friends that have encouraged me through this chapter. It's been a constant journey of stops and starts. All of you have given me the strength to continue. 
> 
> To all around the world, I hope you are staying safe and are doing well! 🧡

[ ](https://imgur.com/B9OzXQB)

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**Chapter 7: The Morn After**

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[ ](https://imgur.com/4Mgw5L9)

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** _Seven Years Prior_ **

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The Sept was quiet. All sound seemed to be sucked out of the room, leaving only the dead to be heard. Cersei lay on the slab of stone, dressed in the deepest of red gowns, with a lion pendant in her folded hands. Her body was still, her once golden skin was now tinted blue. Her bright blonde hair fell in waves across her shoulders. Her lips had been painted with a light red. Jaime looked hard at the way the sharpness of the color looked against her pale and hollow flesh. The circular stones that rested on her eyes were decorated with white and green and black. It was a poor replica of the beautiful moss orbs now hidden behind eyelids that would not open again.

He walked slowly toward the woman he had always loved. His boots hitting on the stone sounded loud and wrong. He felt like he should be as silent as everything else in this holy place. The quiet did not reach his mind though. He stopped a small distance away from the cold and decaying corpse of his once lively twin. The smell of death was strong and made him swallow his stomach contents more than once. This was not how he imagined his time in the Sept with Cersei. All those thoughts of being united in marriage and of watching their babes wed were shattered by the decrepit hand of the Stranger.

And by Cersei as well. 

His eyes narrowed and he searched her peaceful face for the truth. He searched his own memories for hints. When had he lost sight of what was real and what was wishes? Jaime wanted to curse and snarl, blame anyone but the one he should. It was the fault of the Gods, the men, him… but never _her_. She was still pure in his eyes. The golden woman that took his heart and his body while whispering their future in his ear dressed as a simple serving wench. He had made her his ideal. The one woman that was right in a world full of wrong. He had been a fool more than once for Cersei. 

Some would say he still was. He looked away from her face, so like his own. An eerie thought crept up; this was how he would look before entering his tomb. When the fucking God of death finally reached out and grabbed his throat in his bony hand, this would be the color of his skin and the smell of his decay. Steps behind him caused him to turn around. Who would dare interrupt the King saying farewell to his sister? 

His green eyes met those of his young cousin, Lancel. The teen teetered on the step; his mouth parted in surprise. It was rare to see indecision in his cousin. Family and others that knew them both said his kin looked and acted much as he did. Jaime could concede that the two of them could be mistaken for brothers, but that is where the likeness stopped… or that’s where he thought it had stopped. 

He moved in the direction of his cousin and saw the teen shake. Jaime smelled the fear on his skin in the same way he smelt the death on Cersei’s. His lips pulled back; his teeth were exposed in a cruel mimic of a smile. Lancel looked at him, glanced at the corpse on the slab and then back at Jaime. Rage built and flooded his mind. _Yes, dear cousin,_ he thought. _I know._ He curled his hands into fists to halt the urge to reach for his sword. It was hard. He wanted the shiny blade to bathe in crimson. 

Lancel bowed his head, his shoulders slumping. Jaime took another step toward him. Once again, his boots sounded impossibly loud in the sacred space. Lancel tensed and seemed to prepare himself for the punishment that he knew was coming. Jaime almost pitied him. His mind came up with hundreds of ways to get the truth out of him. Each idea was more cruel than the one before. 

“Jaime,” Tywin called, stopping him from snatching his prey. He looked over at his father and then back where Lancel stood. The boy had fled, gone was Jaime’s chance for the moment, but there would be another. He was King after all. He headed to where Tywin waited. “We have much to do,” he started even before Jaime had come to stand at his side. “The tragic death of your sister has left us without a way to secure Highgarden… you sister was always too impulsive,” Tywin growled. “But Olenna has made inquiries about your interest in wedding her granddaughter, Margaery…”

Jaime tuned his father out after that. He would not wed a child. He would not wed anyone. Cersei had played her game well.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

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**Present day**

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Jaime felt irritated most of the morn. His night was restless after the wench left him so abruptly. He wanted to follow her into her chambers and remind her of the pleasure they had shared. He wanted to but he could not forget the way she flinched away from him when he touched her cunt after their coupling. It had been many years since he had been with a maid, but he remembered Cersei being more than excited to go well into the morning with him. She never acted sore or like the act of coupling hurt in any way. In fact, Jaime could recall her being the aggressor in more than one moment.

Being with the wench had been different. She had never had touches from men to warm her body and make it easier to accept a cock for the first time. He felt stupid for believing she had. Her innocence was worn upon her like most women wear a cloak. It wrapped around her and covered her in purity. Even a blind and dim man would have recognized it, but Jaime had not. He had convinced himself that purity was only for babes out of the womb. 

It had delighted him, in a dark way, to know that he had been the first. That he was the lone man to have had her under him. She had only known his hands, his tongue and his cock. No other man had been in her strong body. He had tried to make sure she felt the same amount of satisfaction he had. He knew that she had been brought to release more than once, with his fingers, then with his cock, but now he wondered if he had been too forceful in taking his own pleasure. 

He would be the first to admit the moment he had experienced her cunt squeezing his cock, he had lost all resolve to go easy on her body. His desire to pound his sword into her had been too much. Jaime was not one to worry about much, worry did nothing except make insides tighten and minds to fracture, but he was concerned about her. If he had caused her agony, he would not be able to look at himself. The point of them coming together was to relieve the ache, not inflict new ones.

Jaime rolled his shoulders and frowned at his breakfast plate. The wench was not coming to break her fast with him. Pia had been apologetic in her explanation but had also made it clear that his guest would be taking her food in her chambers, due to “illness”. He pushed the plate aside and reached for his wine. _She had not seemed ill when she had been panting under me_, he thought bitterly. 

He stood quickly and stormed from the table, grabbing Pod’s shoulder as the young man was walking in. “Clear the table. Give the food to whoever you see that wants a meal and feed the cat the scraps.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” he grinned at him. Even his most abrasive tone could not stop the boy from smiling. Jaime wanted to growl at him to wipe the expression from his mouth but could not bring himself to. Let the boy smile, who really gave a fuck. “Anything else I can do for you, Your Grace?”

Jaime was about to snap that he could do nothing but what was asked of him, when he stopped. “Tell me, Podrick, have you seen the w… my guest?”

“I think,” he paused, his words catching. “I think she is with Pia, Your Majesty.”

He swallowed back another growl. “_Where_?” He put a heavy tone to the word.

“I don’t know rightly, Your Majesty.” Pod tapped his fingers against his thigh. “Pia didn’t talk much this morn. She just said sumthing about tea for Milady and then headed for the Maester’s chambers.” Jaime felt the blood drain from his head in a rush… “I don’t know why she headed there for tea.”

“Thank you, Podrick,” Jaime mumbled and left the dining hall in a hurry. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!_ He rushed to King and Queen’s quarters and to the wench’s door. He knocked roughly. _Moon tea! Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ He knocked again, harder than before. “Open the door!”

The wooden door swung open to reveal the startled face of a maid gathering sheets from the bed. She curtsied and scurried from the room. Jaime walked in, finding the room empty. His stomach turned and he walked back out into the main part of the castle. His mind was going in circles. Where had the wench gone? Had Pia betrayed him and helped her escape?

As if his thoughts had somehow brought her forth, Pia appeared and headed toward the west side of the Keep. “Pia!” He called to the girl. She paused and turned around, in her arms were clothes, the wench’s clothes, and a towel. Relief flooded him. “Where is our guest?” He asked even though he was sure he could find her easily now.

“In the baths, Your Majesty,” she said in a slightly cold way. “Milady was quite sore an’ ill this morn. Thought a bath wo’ld help her an’ soothe the ache.”

Jaime noticed her eyes were barely concealing her feelings on how he behaved. He knew her story. He knew how men had treated her. Had seen the bruises on her arms from his own soldiers and the broken teeth from his father’s famed dog. He knew that she would never judge him for taking the wench to bed. Sex was not sacred to her… but he also knew that she believed he would be more cautious with the woman he bedded. Pia did not have to say anything, her brown eyes told him all he needed to know. Rationally he knew he should not give a fuck about how a servant saw his actions, and really, he did not for the most part, but this was different. Jaime prided himself on never hurting a woman, even if they deserved it. Now could he really claim that? She shifted the items in her arms and curtsied as well as she could. 

“If ya will excuse me, Your Grace, I must tend to Milady an’ care for her ills.”

He nodded, feeling slightly ashamed of his own lack of care. He watched Pia walk toward the bathing room and closed his eyes. He did not know much about Moon Tea, but he did recall that at one-point Cersei commented on the taste and how sick it made her right after. He had seen her mouth twist in revulsion as she drank it quickly before making herself look untouched again. 

It was not that he did not know that a woman could get pregnant from one tumble in the sheets, he just had never had to think about it. Cersei had dictated most of their sexual encounters. It had always been on her schedule, in the way that made her happy and with her controlling the outcome. She had been the one to precure the contraceptive and he learned her moon cycles by when she would come to him. All Jaime had to do was perform and perform _well_. He would hear about it if he took his pleasure before she had reached hers. He would wear the bruises from her fists, and other objects, if he dared do something she did not want. 

Looking back on the times with her now, he could see how fucking stupid he was. How blind to her he was. Cersei had changed the course of his life with her promises of love and her wet cunt. Jaime had fallen for it because he had once been a romantic at heart. That Jaime was gone now. Foolish romantic notions were just that…foolish and he did not live his life by them any longer. 

That’s why this arrangement with the wench was so appealing. He hungered for her in the way he had not hungered for anyone- including his sweet, dead sister. The wench was ripe and sweet and so tasty on his tongue. Her moans had been enough to set him aflame and her touch, that light unsure touch, had made him as hard as the marble her homeland was known for.

Thinking about her naked and flushed body now was causing his breeches to tighten and his mouth to water. He looked down the hall that Pia had just disappeared down and licked his lips. It would not hurt to check on the wench… and he could use a bath himself…

He set off with a purpose toward the bathhouse. His mind coming up with all the things he wanted to do in those steaming waters…but he wouldn’t, if she was hurting at all, he would restrain himself. Jaime made himself that promise. And entered the darkened room. The rich red bricks that made up the walls were glistening from the steam and he could hear Brienne moving within the tub. He pulled at his tunic, loosening the material to make taking it off easier. He spotted her through mist, wet and pink. He started removing his clothes as he watched her scrub at her skin. 

The promise he just made, fading at the sight of her. Fuck she was setting him on fire. He needed to sink into her. His body wanted to be in hers. Her warmth and sweet cunt was calling to him. With his teeth gritted, he held onto the oath he made. He would not claim her again… unless she asked him to.

The water rippled and moved, showing him glimpses of her supple flesh beneath the surface. Her head was bowed as she worked the brush and soap across her arms. Her mind was elsewhere, and she did not notice his presence. Jaime took the opportunity to study her. She really was magnificent. While some men could easily pass over her, thinking her too unattractive because she did not fit the mold of a lady, he could not stop his eyes from finding her. It was that combination of feistiness and shyness that kept him entertained. It was the wicked tongue and endless blue eyes that held his attention. It was that strong body and agile mind that made him interested. 

She was the warrior and the maiden, and he was staking his claim on her. He moved further into the bathhouse and her gaze met his. She gripped the brush tightly in her hand and her eyes narrowed. Her body tensed as she sank as far down into the water as she could without submerging herself. He finished removing his clothes slowly, “Are you shy now wench?”

“Why are you here?” She asked, her voice silky and a little dangerous. 

“I needed a bath,” he stepped into the tub. Her eyes strayed down his naked body and she licked her lips involuntarily. “And I thought you could use the company.” He took a seat on the bench, leaving some room between them. He smirked at her, “Care to wash me, wench? Or would you prefer I bathe you first?”

Her blue eyes widened and she inhaled sharply.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/4Mgw5L9)

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_  
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Five Years Prior

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She held her breath as she moved through Evenfall. Her footsteps light from all her training in the practice yard. She knew her father and brother were discussing the King and she was left out again. Brienne wanted to stomp her feet and demand to be let into the meeting. She was part of the family! She deserved to know the truth of what was going on! She crept close to the wall, careful to stay in the shadows, knowing her father would be disappointed in her if she was caught.

But she couldn’t stay out of the fray any longer. She needed to know! Watching as Galladon and her father grew more and more tense while she knew nothing was frustrating. She hated being seen as a child. She wasn’t one, damn it. She was old enough to marry and bear babes. She was old enough to keep a house. She _should_, then, be old enough to know what atrocities this King has done. 

Soon, whether she liked it or not, she would be forced to abide by his rule. She would be a Lady of a house, as minor as it was, in her own right and she would be beholden to King Jaime’s whims. The thought made her teeth clench and her jaw hurt. Brienne should be out there fighting against his tyranny with her father and brother, not sequestered indoors with a cruel Septa that repeatedly told her that she was lucky to be born into a noble family. If she hadn’t, she would surely have suffered. 

Brienne shook her head and straightened her shoulders. She moved further down the hall and pressed lightly against the closed door of his solar. Through the crack she could see her father with his head bent over some papers. She was taken with how these years had weighed on him. He looked older now. Gray dominated the silvery blonde of his hair, both in his beard and on his head. The lines of his face had deepened around his blue eyes and thick lips. The strongest man she knew, looked weakened by his duty- both as Lord and against the King.

“More seek refuge,” Selwyn said with a heaviness to his tone. “More than we can possibly help, I fear. The Crown must know about our role in this. They will come for all us and it is my fault you and your sister are placed in harms way.”

“I have made my decision,” Galladon leaned forward. She watched the firelight dance across his features. Her brother was a beautiful man. He got all the traits of their father, strength and height, while also getting those soft ones from their mother. Many a maiden had fallen at his feet. She wanted to be envious of him but his almost annoyingly agreeable nature made that impossible. She loved him. He was her best friend, her greatest ally and her constant support. Next to their father, Galladon was her favorite person in all of Westeros. “I know what is at stake. I am willing to take what will come with honor.”

“Your sister did not,” Selwyn stood and walked over to the hearth where a small fire was flickering. “She did not choose to take a side against the Crown. I have dragged her unknowingly into a war that could lead her to her demise.” Brienne grit her teeth to hold in her words. She would have willingly joined the battle. She knew her father was a righteous man. She knew if he believed this strongly he must be on the side of good. There was no other way this would be happening… “She will become a sacrifice to a war she did not engage in. I cannot let that happen.”

Brienne held herself still even though every part of her wanted to rush in and state her desire to take up arms with them. She belonged in maille and armor at their sides. Curling her hands into her palms, she felt her heart beginning to pound thinking of telling her father that. Forcing him to see her worth at his side. She was just as good as Galladon and getting better. Ser Goodwin had told her that himself. He was about to train her in how to wield a morning star soon. She could fight. She could be part of the army that fought for good.

“What do you suggest? Send her to Dorne with the next group?” Galladon asked.

Her father pointed at the papers on his desk, “House Swann has come to us. Lord Gulian Swann has offered his second son and I am thinking it might be a good match.” Brienne’s heart plummeted. “He is a skilled knight and knows of Brienne’s love for blades. Lord Gulian is a good man that wants to see his sons settled. I have had many interactions with this House and know them to be loyal to the Baratheon name- may them all rest in peace. Ser Balon might make Brienne very happy and she would be away from Tarth if the worst should happen.”

That was the moment she could not stand still any longer. Brienne pushed hard against the door and stared at her father. Both men looked at her, neither seemed surprised by her presence. Her stomach dropped with her heart. They had known. This was their way of breaking the news. Her betrothal was set. 

“No,” she hissed through her teeth. “I will not marry while you fight and could die.”

“Starlight,” her father sighed. “This will keep you safe. House Swann is full of noble and good men. Ser Balon is a soft spoken man and a knight. He will treat you with kindness. Please do understand, my star, this is for the best.”

She closed the door and came to stand at his desk. “It is better for me to be wedded and away from you? I do not care if Ser Balon is touched by the Warrior, this is wrong.” She began to pace the floor, her long gown getting caught under her feet. Another thing to add to the list of tasks she did poorly- the length was never right, her stitches were always crooked. She paused in her pacing and turned to her brother, “Gall, please, you know I am strong with a blade. I can _help_.”

Her brother stood from his chair and came to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “I stand with father on this,” he whispered to her dismay. “You are too precious and I do not wish to see you harmed by this cruel King’s men.”

She pushed from him, her anger making her eyes water and her stomach clench. Tears threatened to spill from her in heavy streams but she held them back. She would not cry. She had not cried since she was the tender age of six and watched as her mother was put in a tomb. That was the last day she allowed herself to give into her emotions and be completely vulnerable. Brienne knew she had a soft heart, her father had told her that more than once. _Starlight, it is your sweet sensibility that makes you as bright as the northern stars. Do not lose that. For it would darken my world to see it dimmed._

Honestly, Brienne tried. She tried to hold onto the innocent child she had been for her father who was nearly broken by all he had lost. It was not easy though. Being one not graced by beauty or quick wit had left her open to hateful words and piercing looks. Galladon was always swift to stomp out anyone that was unduly cruel to her. Especially with the women that would smile to her face to get in good with Galladon, but would then whisper about his monster of a sister in their sewing groups. 

In a small island, with many always trying to gain favor, word would inevitably get back to the Tarth family. Those ladies never could understand why Gall would hold them in such high esteem one day but be so cold to them the next. Brienne knew. It filled her with pride and shame. Pride at the fact that he loved her so much, even one ill word against her would cause him to shun another. Shame because she was hindering his life with her monstrous looks. Her big brother would lift his large shoulders and smile at her, _“If they were worthy of the Tarth name, they would know that you are the greatest of us.”_

It was that thought, she knew, which was behind his agreement with their father. She was the greatest of them- that was horse shit. She would not carry the Tarth name, Galladon would. He was the heir, he would lead this island once their father stepped down or died. She was the forgotten one. The one pushed aside. The one deemed too precious to fight, even though she was a capable swordswoman. Brienne bit her lip to keep her feelings inside. 

“Brienne,” her father walked over to her and she tensed. “I am not doing this to hurt you. I have made it clear with Lord Guilan, you are never to be stopped from learning with a blade.” He ran a hand through his hair roughly. “I do not wish you to be away from me. I just want you safe. Can you not see how this world is shifting? People flee from this King and I am at the center of it. You do not have to be.”

“I _want_ to,” she pleaded, the tears from earlier coming back. “I am not a child. I can speak for myself. Ser Balon is not where I belong. I belong here with you and Galladon.”

Selywn’s eyes glistened as he looked at her, “I know you are not a child. I-”

His words got stopped by light rhythmic tapping on the door. He kissed her cheek and walked over to the door. A soldier stood on the other side, his face was pale and his hazel eyes were sharp. He bowed to her father and two the Tarth children before coming to stand back at attention. 

“Lord Selwyn,” Ser Penrose said with respect. The knight had once been the Castellan of Storm’s End, but was ousted by the King’s soldiers and fled to the safety of Tarth with his kin. Her father had always welcomed council from others and implored his children to do the same. Each, Galladon and Brienne, had learned a lot from the knight and with that knowledge came a picture of their monarch that was not favorable. “I am sorry to interrupt, but I have an urgent matter that must be attended to.”

“What is it?” Ser Penrose handed him a piece of parchment and Brienne watched her father’s blood drain from his face. Selwyn turned to look at Galladon and they shared a silent exchange. Brienne felt cold all of the sudden. Something was wrong and she would not know because they would not tell her. “Galladon take your sister to her chamber, then summon Ser Goodwin to come to the study in the second keep.”

“Should I come as well,” Galladon straightened.

“No,” Selwyn said as he gathered some papers and other items from his desk. “You will stay in your chamber as well. I will come to both of you when I am ready.”

Brienne was comforted by the look on her brother’s face. His jaw was set and his blue eyes were flashing. He was being left out too. He felt the same anger she did. She felt a tiny part of her cheered at that. At least she was not being shunned alone. 

Ser Penrose and her father left them standing frustrated in the solar. Each knew that they would not be allowed close to the study and both were beyond annoyed. Galladon wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. They left the solar in silence. Neither having much to say. As they moved through the castle, Brienne saw Ser Penrose with what looked like three children. One was wearing a thick and ratty cloak and seemed to walk with a pronounced limp. The other two were simply dressed as well, but walked more easily. No one talked as they entered the study. She could see her father extend his hand to the one in the ratty coat, but the door closed before he spoke.

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[ ](https://imgur.com/gsXPQID)

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Present day

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Brienne looked around her at the bathhouse. It was large with two tubs that could easily sit six men. She eased down into the water, letting out a heavy sigh as her muscles began to relax. The tension in her body from her thoughts and activities the night before released. Her mind fogged up with the steam and she rested her head against the red brick that encircled the bath. She closed her eyes, just taking time to enjoy the freedom of being alone.

Pia had assured her no one really used the bathhouse. Most guests preferred private baths or brought people with them to do more than bathe. Brienne had flushed crimson at that comment. It had only been a flash of a thought, but she wondered what it would be like to have King Jaime bring her down here for the sole purpose of getting dirty, not clean. As quick as the thought entered her mind, though, it left with the same speed. 

She pushed her hand through the hot water, sending ripples throughout the deep pool. She picked up the bar of soap as well as the brush and started cleansing her body. The actions were done slowly and without thought. Her mind, as foggy as it was, kept going back to King Jaime and what they had done. She wondered if her life had turned out differently, if she had wed Ser Balon like she was promised to do, would her first time have been like that? Would she have burned for her Lord husband the way she was ashamed to admit she burned for the King? 

The truth was she didn’t think so, but she would never know either. Ser Balon had died fighting for his King- the only King he was loyal to- King Robert. He had been cut down by King Jaime’s soldiers four moons before they were to meet and wed. At the time Brienne had not known what to think. She was sad because he had lost his life fighting for what he believed in, but she was also relieved because she would be free from the bonds of marriage. The Houses could not be joined and she would not be passed to the next male Swann since he was already wed. 

It had seemed like the Gods were on her side… then her world crashed around her. She paused in her cleaning, dropping her head and taking in large gulps of humid air. She had betrayed her family, her oaths, _herself_, by letting the King take her Maidenhead. And she had let_ him_. For all the words that she could say against him, this one was the most sure, he did not force her to enter his chamber. Brienne had been the one to cross that hall and knock on his door. She had been the one who entered his den knowing what would happen. He might have pushed her to that point, but she was the one who stepped across the line. 

And she had enjoyed it. She had found pleasure and he had been kind to her. He did not take from her and give her nothing, he had made sure she was sated before taking his own pleasure. It was that, that worry for her, that made her even more confused. If he had been cruel or tried to rape her, if he had locked her in with no way out, if he had been rough to the point of agonizing pain, she would have been single in her focus. Killing him would have been easier. He would have given her another reason to want his head mounted for all to see. 

But he had not been. King Jaime had taken her slowly and with much more care than she could have imagined. He had gotten a little rough with her once his own pleasure had reached the peak, but even that was not horrible. Bruises dotted her thighs and hips, bites covered her chest by her nipples… it was signs of what they had done and of how much he had wanted her. Having spent her life watching men want others, she could not fathom the King wanting _her_. Yet it was true.

The sound of heavy clothes hitting the stone broke her out of her thoughts and she glanced up quickly. Her heart began to pound at Jaime standing there in the bath removing his garments slowly. Her blood was rushing through her body so loudly she could not hear anything. Ducking down, she tried to cover herself in the water, as if that was going to hide her body from his emerald eyes.

“Are you shy now wench?” The King spoke with an arrogant lift to his voice that pushed through the noise in her head. 

“Why are you here?” 

Her body temperature was rising higher and higher. She felt like she might pass out. For all her earlier musings about how wrong what she had done the night before was… she felt the tingle in her core begin again. The man truly was gorgeous! Golden and perfect, even his scars were elegant. Brienne had no idea how one could accomplish that feat- but the King of the Seven Kingdoms had. 

“I needed a bath,” he stepped into the tub. Her eyes strayed down his naked body and she licked her lips involuntarily. Brienne tried really hard not to notice how _hard_ the King was. It was a nearly impossible feat. Especially when her eyes kept straying back to the thickening member. “And I thought you could use the company.” He took a seat on the bench, leaving some room between them. He smirked at her, “Care to wash me, wench? Or would you prefer I bathe you first?”

Brienne tore her eyes from him and looked down at the water. Her entire being was aching again. This was a different discomfort though, this was the kind of throb he had caused in her last night. This was the type _he_ could cure with a touch and a kiss and all the wrong things she was trying to convince herself she did not want. Or rather should abstain from. Taking a deep breath she raised her head to look at him again. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, her heart was racing- thumping hard in her chest. He was so close and she wanted him again. She longed to feel him inside her, as fool hearted as that was.

She pressed her legs together which drew his eyes to them. This time he licked his lips. She watched it roll and disappear. She needed to get away from him… or she might give in again. 

“I have bathed,” she was proud her voice only shook a little. “I will leave you to bathe in peace.”

Brienne stood and started to walk to the stairs. His hand brushed over the bruises on her hips and she paused, trembling. “I am sorry if I caused you pain, wench,” he said softly. She turned her head to look at him while he traced the dark spots on her thighs. “I did not mean to.”

Where was this kindness coming from? She was confused by him once more. This man was the reason so many people died, he caused undue suffering, he burned her world to the ground… and he was the reason Pia was safe. King Jaime had been generous in his coupling with her. He had servants that smiled at him with true expressions of joy. She knew this man for a tyrant. He was holding her prisoner… _He gave you the Queen’s room and has not hurt you,_ a small voice said. She swallowed. It didn’t make sense… What was worse though, was she felt an overwhelming need to reassure him.

“I can live with bruises,” she responded softly. “I have many on my skin that have nothing to do with you or what we did last night.”

His moss-colored eyes found her blue ones. “I still should have been easier on you.” Brienne moved away from his touch, it was too much for her, and sat back down on the bench. He dropped his hand back into the water. “I spoke with Pia this morn.” Her muscles clenched. “I was very foolish,” he smirked at her, “And that is the last time you will hear me call myself that. I should have taken precautions. A babe would do neither of us good. I will make sure the tea is available to you for the next time.”

“How are you so confident there will _be_ a next time?” She asked but already knew the answer. She wanted him and he knew that. He had felt her tremble under him and it had not been only in fear. The desire for this man was as strong as it was despicable. “You have stated you will not force me,” she straightened her spine even as her insides shook. “I have never said it would be more than once.”

His eyes sharpened and he stood up, coming to stand in front of her. His legs bumped into hers and she pressed her lips together. Her nipples were tingling and hard, she wanted to rub them to relieve the ache. Her core was on fire, needing, _demanding_ his touch. She was doomed by her body. There would be another time. There will be more than one.

“You say that you did not agree to more than one night and that may be true,” he placed his hands on the stone beside her head and leaned in. His lips brushed over the shell of her ear. “But your body is telling me that you wish for me to sink my cock in you right now. Your nipples are begging me to lick and bite them,” she barely held in her moan. “I felt you quivered when I touched your thighs. Are you denying that you want me to part them and lap at the juice of your cunt like I did last night?”

Every part of her wanted that. And every part of her hated that she did. He had unlocked the woman under the beast everyone else saw. He opened her up to pleasure and to the touch of a man and now she wanted it again. He moved his head until his lips were almost against hers. She held her breath, waiting… waiting… waiting...

“Well, wench,” he said softly. “It is your choice.”

Her choice. The Mormonts came back to her mind. This was another opportunity. This was another chance. There was not a weapon in sight. She could try to overpower him, knock his head against the stone, maybe when his eyes were closed, maybe after when he was sated and loose… She leaned forward, closing the distance between them. His kiss was hungry, he devoured her mouth. She was just as passionate. Her tongue met his in a duel. Jab, retreat, parry, slip and slide. He yanked her body into his, her legs wrapped around his waist. She was half gone and her thoughts of letting him drown in the tub started to fade away in the haze. 

Jaime licked at her lips as he pulled away, holding the side of her head with his left hand. She gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. He hissed against her neck and bit down on the sensitive area right below her jaw. She moaned, her hips jerking into his. He leaned back to look at her. His green eyes were dark with promise.

He played her nipple with his right hand, tweaking the responsive bud till it was aching and long. “Tell me what you want wench,” his voice was rough with desire. “Tell your King the truth. Was it only one time? Will you lie and tell me you do not wish to fuck me right now? Open your mouth. Tell me.”

She whimpered and tried to remember her plan. Stone… after… his cock… everything was twirling and distorting except for one thought that was as clear as the seas around Tarth. She opened her mouth and sealed her fate. “I want you to fuck me,” she felt dirty and liberated. She felt shame and like her body would explode if he didn’t touch her right then. He grinned. He had won. “Please,” she whispered. “Fuck me.”

He kissed her hard. Teeth and tongue. Total possession. She was his and even though she knew that she shouldn’t be, she was excited by that. Brienne was slipping below the current of her need and she was about to drown. The long fingers of his right hand played with the folds of her core. He slipped one digit in easily. She kissed him more urgently, her hands moving over his body, pulling him into her. Jaime started thrusting his finger slowly, her hips followed his movements. Brienne clung to him. She needed more. This wasn’t enough. He added a second finger, letting her adjust to the invasion. Her muscles tightened and she moaned into his kiss. He rubbed her clit with his thumb then a third finger and she inhaled sharply against his mouth. Her body tensed again as a twinge of discomfort made her pull away and grimace. He paused as if coming back to himself. Jaime moved to the side of her and sat on the bench. Brienne was breathing heavily, turning to look at him. He ran a hand down his face, water gathered on the sharp edge of his chin before falling back into the tub. 

“No,” he finally said. “I will not fuck you.” Brienne swallowed and nodded. Finally he had come to his senses. Of course he would realize she was not… “I want you to set the pace. Come here, wench,” he pulled her shocked form from her spot and over his lap. “I caused you discomfort last night, I will only take you just as strongly if I am over you now.”

She hovered over his erect cock and shook her head. “I thought…”

He smirked at her, “You thought what? That I had changed my mind?” She hesitated then nodded. “Wench,” he helped her settle her cunt over his cock and guided it inside of her slowly, carefully. She expected some pain, like when he first took her, but all that she got was another stab of discomfort. Jaime licked at her neck, sucked her tits into his mouth while he played with her clit. The unease was drowned out by the immense pleasure she got from him being inside her. He groaned as her body accepted him little by little. Brienne closed her eyes, adjusting to the fullness. Once he was fully seated in her core, he continued. “You are mine now. Your body is mine. You feel it, don’t you? And _you_ want it.” Brienne pressed her lips together, silently denying the truth. He smirked against her mouth. “You don’t have to say the words.” He pushed into her and she moaned, gripping his shoulders and throwing back her head. “I know.”

He did know. Her body had become weak in his presence. The need to be taken by him stronger than anything she had felt before- other than her need to avenge her family. It was a twisted web in her mind. She couldn’t stop herself from wanting to kill him and - she gasped as he pushed into her again- to fuck him. She blushed at the crudeness of her thoughts. Brienne buried her head into his shoulder and moved her hips, starting to grind on him.

“Yes,” he hissed, grabbing her ass in his hands. He guided her to lift up and roll her hips. The sensation was too much. She wanted to cry out, she wanted to stay silent, she wanted him to push harder. She wanted so much. Her breathing changed as the tension built in her. A curling heat that started in her center and spread out. Brienne grabbed onto the side of the tub tightly, fingers turning white from the pressure. Her hips lost the rhythm they had set. She wanted him to move harder, but she didn’t want to voice that so she hovered on the edge. “Wench,” he groaned, reaching between them to touch her throbbing center. 

His thumb brushed over her clit- once, twice, harder, faster. She jerked, rolling her hips, riding him, trying to search out that euphoric feeling. The pace became punishing. He thrust up as she pushed down. The water of the tub splashed over the sides in tidal waves. Brienne locked her legs around his back, using her grip on the tub to give her leverage. 

“Oh, please,” she pleaded. Her nerves were fraying. She was so close. Her body was on the brink. The string was about to snap but needed a little more… She just didn’t know what that more was…

“You beg so pretty,” he whispered into her ear. She shivered. He moved his other hand from holding her ass and rolled her nipple while he sucked on the opposite one. She arched into him, her hips reacting to the quadrupole assault of his cock in her, his mouth on her and his two hands playing with her in different places. Brienne bit her bottom lip as her moans and gasps became louder and louder. He twisted her nipple and a flare of white hot pleasure barreled through her. Jaime noticed the change as her pelvis slammed into his harder than before. She opened her eyes to see him staring at her in wonder. The emerald was nearly gone, a mere ring remained. “Oh wench,” he grinned and twisted her nipple a little more roughly. 

That was all it took to sever the string holding her back. The touch of pain while he filled her sent her over the edge and she rode him as the waves crashed into her. Brienne was sure she blacked out from the intensity of what she was feeling. When she came to, Jaime was still inside her- hard and throbbing- and was watching her. His tongue rolled along his bottom lip. She couldn’t stop herself and leaned forward, capturing his mouth and tongue. They kissed as hard as they fucked. He helped her up, sliding from her cunt. She stood on shaky legs, biting her lip. 

“Your Majesty,” she swallowed, her eyes on his thick manhood jutting out, hard as the steel she longed to swing. “You… you have not,” she felt stupid. Her words getting stuck in her throat. 

“I told you,” he pulled her close, his hot cock trapped between them. He shuddered and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. “I will be more cautious this time. I will not die from a hard cock. Now come wench, let us return to my chambers.”

“I can go back to mine,” she shook thinking about lying with him while he was still hard and she was so tempted. “It would be best-”

He yanked her closer to him, not a breath of air could pass between them. “You _will_ come to my chambers, wench. I am not quite done with your body yet.” His fingers gripped her hips. “I did not break my fast and I am still quite hungry.”

Brienne inhaled sharply. She was still quite hungry as well, but she tried one more time. “Do you not have more important matters to attend to?”

“On the morrow,” he kissed her slowly, weakening her resolve further. “Now I have you.”

He helped her from the tub and together they dressed. Her eyes strayed to him over and over again. Her cunt was just as sore as it had been when she entered the bathhouse, but this time the throb was due to her need. He told her she would come to crave him inside of her and she feared he was right. She slipped the silk dress Pia had left for her on- the color a deep blue- and tried to calm the blush flooding her body. 

When she looked up again, she caught his gaze on her. She had seen him appear excited, angry, amused, sarcastic, mean… but this was not any of those. The light in his eyes was different and she felt shaken by it. He coughed and cleared his throat, averting his glance from her. By the time their gazes locked again, the expression was hidden as if it was never there.

“Let us retire,” his voice was thick. She nodded and walked out of the bathhouse with him following her.

As she climbed the stairs, she cursed in her head. 

She had failed again. And now she was going back to his chamber…

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[ ](https://imgur.com/H5mE4cn)

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[ ](https://imgur.com/sg0XLbL)

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!


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